


Sea & Sky: Other Stories

by kerithwyn, offpanel_archivist



Series: Sea and Sky [42]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-03
Updated: 2005-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 09:12:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16829578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerithwyn/pseuds/kerithwyn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/offpanel_archivist/pseuds/offpanel_archivist
Summary: Stories written by others for the Sea & Sky series. Ratings vary by chapter.





	1. Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the offpanel archivist, kerithwyn: these stories were originally archived at [Offpanel.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Offpanel.net), which will be closing soon. To preserve the archive, members began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2016. Kerithwyn e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [offpanel.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Offpanel/profile).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sea and Sky: Hands by Lucy, who let me steal this drabble for my own use. ^_^ Takes place during "Whatever You Need".

All he feels are hands.

Hands that can form words for a throat long ago robbed of sound.

Hands that can use a brush to put life on canvas, or pull beauty from metal strings.

Hands that can tease and soothe and oh God, yes, *that.*

Hands that can make him forget that she had stayed behind, with her father, her mother, her *husband,* that can make him forget that she'd really had no choice but maybe he had. Hands that can keep him here and now instead of light years and a lifetime away.

All he feels are hands.


	2. Sea and Sky: A Drabble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by A.J.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.j. Writes Slash: A Drabble

The room was quiet, the only sound a low buzzing emitted by the square window fan and the ever-present hum of distant traffic. It was a warm night in early summer, and while this time of the evening usually involved a rather impressive set of acrobatic feats for the two men entwined on the bed, tonight was special.  
It was a night off.

"You awake?" The whisper was soft and intimate. It rolled across skin, and while warm, left distinct gooseflesh in its wake.

"Mmm." Long dark lashes fluttered and revealed sleepy blue eyes. "No. But I can be."

Arms and legs shifted, seeking closer contact. A low chuckle joined the hum and buzz, and the light from an outside streetlamp lit on the merest hint of a grin. "Not if you're tired."

"I'm never tired at this time of night."

Skin shifted again. Had anyone been watching, there would have been no way to tell where one body left off and the other began. Dark hair mingled on the pillow, and in the sepia tones of the yellow streetlight, sheets and skin mingled in an achingly beautiful twist.

"I'm very glad."

And the rest was definitely not silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA! 200 words not including the title! FRIGGIN GO ME!
> 
> And happy b-day 'rithy chick!


	3. Sea and Sky: A Night in Greece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by MellyPol. Just a lovely moment. ;) Takes place during the Greece vacation sequence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters property of DC comics, no infringement intended. This story was written entirely for Kerithwyn-Angel.

Dick glared at Garth. "You'd better not be laughing."

Garth's violet eyes were wide, his expression serious. "Do I look like I'm laughing?"

There was absolutely no doubt in Dick's mind. "Yes, you do! Stoppit." He twitched miserably.

Garth's eyebrows wavered for a moment and he turned his head to gaze out at the ocean for almost a full minute, the waves going up and down rhythmically. The hush-hush of those waves drifted up to the window where he sat, back straight, lips compressed briefly in a straight line before relaxing.

"I am not laughing," he said firmly, after a long wait. He glanced back at his lover. Dick was sprawled on his stomach, nothing between his skin and the cool stone floor. The cooler night breeze glided like silk through the wide open windows and doors and Garth held the edges of the garish Hawaiian shirt Roy had bought him as a joke still against his body, as he watched Dick lying there, prone and unmoving.

Dick contemplated moving, but it really was just too much. "Don't lie, I know that you're laughing on the inside." He twisted his neck, then winced at the sensation, but continued to look up at Garth. "This is all your fault, you know."

"How, exactly, is that?" Garth inquired, curious, not denying it.

"You went and left me alone while you went off for a swim," Dick explained. He frowned. "You shouldn't leave me alone, you never know what will happen."

Garth smiled. "I see. Evidently you should be watched all the time."

"I should. By you." Dick settled his face back on the floor now that agreement had been reached.

Garth stifled another smile and in swift long strides left the room. A bare minute later he was back. Dick opened his eyes a slit as Garth gracefully sat down on the floor next to him, then held out a tube expressively, then squeezed out some goo into his hands. His eyes twinkled as he brought both hands down onto Dick's butt, the goo still cold, freezing even against Dick's heated skin. Dick's eyes fluttered and he groaned and shifted into the rub.

Garth smiled and continued, his hands feather-light on Dick's skin.

Dick opened his eyes and captured Garth's gaze in his. "Just do me one favour?" he pleaded quietly, his voice strained.

Garth's teeth flashed in the half-light. "Anything."

"Please, promise me," Dick took a deep breath, "never ever tell Roy that I fell asleep and let my butt get sunburnt."


	4. Neighbors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by 'rith (Clancy and Jon) and SKH (Amygdala). The guys don't live in a vacuum. What do the neighbors think? 
> 
> Takes place after "A Thousand Regrets."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuity: Current DCU, S&S universe (Nightwing/Tempest). For those keeping track, this one falls between the Greece vacation and the Clocktower visit. ;)

Bridget Clancy:

Sure'n I got your number now, Mr. Grayson. You needn't have been so shy.

I had a thought or two, I'll admit. Or three. But you were always too busy, goin' out with friends, playin' sick--

Oh, aye, playing. Try to pull *that* one on me!

When you moved in t'my building I wondered, I truly did. An' when we finally met in person I wondered more. Charming, well spoken, handsome as the very devil--you caught my eye, sure. M'friend Marcia and I had a good giggle over that. "Just remember, Clancy," she said, going out the door, "the good ones are either married or gay."

Y'wore no ring, so maybe I should've guessed! Y'could have told me before I made a right fool out o' myself, though. Throwin' myself at you like a Dublin tart--

I ever find out you laughed at me, you're a dead man, Dick Grayson!

But I'd have to be blind not t'see the way your 'friend' Garth looks at you, even if you're so good at not revealin' a thing. Even when everyone in the buildin' knows he's been staying over just about every night.

Just be glad all of 'em are too polite to say anything about the *noise!* And wouldn't you blush to the roots to hear me say that!

I ought to raise your rent, that's what I should do. Dual occupancy, see?

*sigh*

Damn your blue eyes.

It's just not *fair,* that's all.

From Jon Law's diary:

What's the saying... "there's nothing new under the sun?"

Heh.

But then, heroes have always made their own rules. Something about the vigilante lifestyle; when you're already operating outside the boundaries of "normal" rules and society, what's one more little...quirk?

It's just that...I'm an old man, from a different era. I know things are different now. Some say better, and I won't argue. It's what we were all fighting for, way back when--liberty, equality. The end to hatred. Granted it was in a different context, but doesn't it all come down to the same thing?

But things *were* different, then. We just never talked about certain issues, even in our outside-the-lines culture. Like...about how Hippolyta never showed a bit of interest in any of the male heroes, apart from their prowess in battle. Or about how Doc McNider never hooked up with that pretty nurse of his, Myra.

And "not talking about it" didn't mean they were treated any differently, either. Oh, there were always the usual individual prejudices, a bitten-off snide comment here and there. "Hero" doesn't mean "perfect," and all of us were guilty of some kind of intolerance at one time or another. It was a volatile time, the world splitting apart into factions, and we were no different. But those sorts of things tended to fade when you were looking down the barrel of a Nazi machine gun or fighting off one of the Ultra-Humanite's creations, with only your teammates to depend on. Little differences went away in the light of our shared crusade.

Now everything's out in the open and I guess...that's a good thing. These young heroes--well, I watch the news and keep up as best I can, and the dangers they combat seem so fantastic compared to what we used to face. Not to say it's any more or less dangerous--a bullet could kill you just as dead as a super-villain's "ray gun" or esoteric power--but certainly more colorful. Any comfort they find in the downtime, any...*love,* can only be a blessing, as it was for us then. They deserve it, as we did. We're all of us human behind the mask, after all.

So, why this entry now? Well...as I wrote when I started this diary, if you're reading this I'm probably dead, and I'm vain enough to hope that this journal might be posthumously published. Another memento of the golden age of superheroes, from one of the golden-agers. There's a liberty that comes with age, in being able to say whatever you want because no one's willing to argue with you about it. And "the truth shall set you free."

As it happens I've had occasion to meet some of these new heroes, and two young men in particular--no names, they'll probably still be at their costumed work when I'm gone. Heroes I would have been proud to fight beside when I was young. Or perhaps I should say, I *hope* I would have been proud. Like I said, I'm an old man from a different era...and not immune to prejudice, either. But time gives you perspective.

Lord, I ramble. These two heroes seem to be a couple, and very much in love.

I actually blushed, writing that. Ancient habits. Things that weren't spoken of, then...but they obviously don't care to hide. And I suppose there's no reason why they should.

But I wonder what things would have been like if we *had* talked about it, back then. If the whispers about Hippolyta and her "island of women"--and the adolescent snickering that went with them--were true, would it have made a gram of difference? Would Doctor Mid-Nite have been more comfortable among his peers if we'd known the truth, or less? Hippolyta was far too regal to acknowledge rumors, but Doc... none of us knew Charles McNider well, and he kept very much to himself. By choice? Or by fear?

I wish I could say with certainty that knowing for sure wouldn't have mattered, or even that it would have made things better. No secrets between teammates, right? No lies, no sins of omission.

But I can't be sure. And that, I suppose, is the lesson here: that times have changed for the better if people don't feel compelled to hide their love, and that the ideals we fought for thrive in this modern world. It's too easy to look back on "the old days" and claim things were better then...when it isn't necessarily so.

And I can take a great comfort in having had a part, however small, in bringing such things to pass.

Amygdala:

I have to be 'very careful' he says, 'cause it can break. Nobody has ever give me something so... pretty. It's from the ocean, he says. Notty... naughty... oh, yeah. Nautilus. That's what he says it is, but I know it's a seashell. It's all swirly, and part of the side is broken and I can see little rooms inside it. Kind of like the building where we live -- little rooms inside a bigger place. Purple-Eyes lives in our building, with Dick-the-cop.

Dick-the-cop lived here first by himself. I never talked to him too much, 'cause I seen how he looked at me at first. He knew who I was. He called me by my bad name. But I'm not Amygdala no more, just Aaron. I got my medicine in my arm that makes me Aaron again. I got a job and a home and neighbors, and I don't get mad no more.

But Dick-the-cop's roommate, Purple-Eyes, didn't ever look at me that way. He just looked at me nice, and he talks to me nice, like I'm his friend. I guess I am, since he give me this present.

I think one day on my day off I'm gonna go to the shore and look out at the ocean.


	5. Sea and Sky: The Lapdance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by SKH. Nightwing plans a special homecoming for a long-absent Tempest. NC-17.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Category: m/m slash fiction: if same-sex guy sex offends you, go elsewhere now, please. If you feel that same-sex Titans sex is total blasphemy, get an imagination, please.   
> Rated NC-17 for adult situations and language  
> Rated "P" for endless Police Puns  
> Cast: Nightwing/Tempest  
> Disclaimer: All characters owned by DC Comics. No profit is realized from creation of stories based on these characters.
> 
> Background: Kerithwyn generously invited me to contribute a chapter in this amazing continuing slash series, Sea and Sky, about the developing relationship between fellow Titans, Nightwing and Tempest. The sometimes tender, sometimes turbulent, sometimes frustratingly aggravating relationship has had its ups and downs, soared to breathless heights and then nearly drowned in the murky depths of emotion and personal revelation. My intent here is to catch these two seriously dedicated crimefighters in a lighter and more playful personal moment.

His shift over, Blüdhaven Police Officer Richard Grayson emerged from the stationhouse locker room showered, shaved, and dressed -- not in civilian attire -- but in a crisp, clean BCPD uniform. Whistling merrily, he bounded down the corridor to the station's exit, headed for home.

"GRAYSON!" Came a shout from behind him, halting him from a clean getaway. "Where the hell are *you* going dressed like *that*? You have overtime duties you're not telling your partner and superior officer about, rookie?" the inquiry came from Grayson's likewise-clocked-out partner, Sgt. Amy Rohrbach. She approached him, giving him a lingering and scrutinizing perusal. "You look better than when you came onshift today, Grayson -- you smell pretty good, too." Her face sported a half-smirk, with one eyebrow arched suspiciously.

Dick Grayson turned to his sergeant, a look of casual innocence washed over his handsome features. "I'm just headed home, Amy, nothing out of the ordinary about that." He emphasized his reply with a slightly subdued version of the Oracle-dubbed "lady-killer" smile. His partner looked less than convinced. He continued, "Oh, the uniform, huh?" Dick rolled his eyes upward in thought for a second, then back to his partner again, and fibbed cheerfully. "Well, y'know, some of the elderly folks in my building love to see the uniform. Makes 'em feel secure knowing a cop lives close by." He broadened his smile to display his back molars.

That's a pile of horse manure and you know it, Grayson. Whoever *she* is, just keep her away from your loaded weapon." Amy Rohrback fought to keep a serious, straight expression in the face of Dick's charmingly disarming grin.

Dick leaned in close to his partner to whisper conspiratorially in her ear. "But Amy, that would kind of defeat the purpose, don't you think? Besides, 'this is my weapon, this is my gun, one is for business, the other's for fun'!" He stepped back, winked, snapped a clean -- albeit sarcastic -- salute, and promptly exited the building, leaving his partner idly wishing she could be a fly on his wall tonight.

Earlier that afternoon, "Nightwing" had received a pager message from Tempest -- Garth -- notifying him of his return to Blüdhaven after a week's absence. Tempest's trip, due to his ambassadorial duties in Washington and Atlantis, had been the first lengthy separation that the two Titans had experienced since they'd begun cohabitating at Nightwing's Blüdhaven apartment. Their relationship had begun with a cautiously exploratory episode that rapidly accelerated into a passionate affair. After weathering some stormy and turbulent emotional upheavals, they recognized, accepted, then welcomed the deep affection and growing bond between them.

Their respective responsibilities to their careers, and their lives outside their relationship, posed a constant challenge to their desire to be together as much as possible, as did their physiological differences. Land-dweller and ocean-dweller together, Dick and Garth were forced to bow to the considerations of those differences and responsibilities from time to time. This separation had certainly felt longer than either had expected it to, but now Garth had returned, and hopefully all had gone well with his trip. And Dick had definite plans for a warm, welcoming homecoming for his friend, fellow Titan, and lover.

Dick parked and secured his motorcycle, hurried into his apartment building, and ran up the stairs -- taking them three at a time -- not even stopping to check his mailbox. He keyed open this door, entered and looked around the apartment. No Garth. Rats! However, a delicious aroma wafted in from the direction of the kitchen, causing the "world's second-greatest detective" to deduce that the object of his search must be in there. Dick quietly closed the front door and stalked silently into the kitchen. Garth stood at the stove, his back to the kitchen's doorway, diligently attending some wonderful culinary delight. He had obviously showered (like he didn't do *that* on a frequent basis) and was wearing only an old pair of drawstring sweatpants. Dick leaned against the doorway for a moment, taking the opportunity to enjoy a lingering, hungry gaze at the magnificently proportioned Merman before him. Garth's back was a work of muscular mastery -- broad shoulders, powerful arms, massive lats (swimmer's wings), tapering to a trim waist that sat atop beefy hips and thighs. Dick couldn't decide at that moment which was more mouth-watering -- his lover, or his lover's cooking.

Opting for the former, he approached the preoccupied Tempest in full "Nightwing-stealth-mode." In a heartbeat, the aquatic Titan had been apprehended, handcuffed, and spun around to face his extremely arresting officer. Placing a finger over Garth's surprised lips, the recent addition to "Blüdhaven's finest" growled, "You're under arrest, Mister, anything on my body can and will be held against you!" Dick replaced his finger with his mouth, pulling Garth into a lingering, knee-weakening kiss, as he reached behind his lover to switch off the stove and oven. He pulled back from Garth's mouth, kissing him softly on his cheeks and forehead before pausing to look longingly into the amethyst eyes before him.

Those violet eyes looked dreamily back, then sparkled with amusement at his predicament. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me what I'm under arrest for...Officer DICK?"

You're under arrest, you dastardly villain, for not 'breaking and entering' ME for a whole goddam week!" And with that, Dick hoisted the surprised Titan over his shoulder and carried him into the living room, where he deposited him into the big recliner chair that faced the entertainment center.

Laughing, Garth entreated upon his love to release him. "This is a splendid show of police brutality, Richard, but would you mind removing the handcuffs so I can give you the kind of greeting you deserve?"

"Hey, mook, this is Blüdhaven, remember? You haven't begun to see police brutality yet. Would ya like to?" Dick grinned suggestively. "Are you resisting arrest, Mister?" he threatened teasingly.

"Richard, at this moment, I don't believe I'm capable of resisting *anything* you suggest -- I'd just like the cuffs removed so I can touch you, love."

Dick stood back, arms crossed, and glared authoritatively at his subdued suspect. "That sounds like a threat to assault an officer of the law to me, buddy. Oh, I'm afraid there are serious, serious penalties for an infraction like that. You wanna see some *real* police brutality? Dick stepped forward again, placing his hands on either side of the chair's armrests, on either side of his interrogation subject. He grinned wickedly, and spoke nose-to-nose to Garth. "You want me to take out the ol' *nightstick* and pop you upside the face with it a couple of times?" Dick shoved the back of the chair, pushing it -- and Garth -- into a reclined angle, then hoisted himself into the chair, straddling the amused Atlantean's hips. He dipped his head to rest his chin between the sea-dweller's well-developed pectorals.

"Or, we can play 'Good-Cop' ..." he tenderly suckled Garth's right nipple, "...or 'Bad-Cop!" he savagely bit the left nipple, inducing a hiss of ecstasy. Dick gave the insulted bud a soft kiss, then rested his cheek against Garth's chest, listening to the strong heartbeat. He closed his eyes, relaxing for a moment to the soothing pulse.

"Richard, I'll play *anything* you want if you'll just remove these handcuffs, please." He pleaded, as Dick's weight on his lap began to send oceans of blood to a long-neglected part of his body.

Dick sat up abruptly and tipped his cap back with one finger. He shifted more of his weight against Garth's lap. "Attempting to bribe a police officer? You're racking up *quite* a collection of serious infractions, Mister. And I *can't* remove those cuffs because it appears you're carrying a concealed weapon!" Blüdhaven's finest reached down and grasped Garth's growing hardness through his sweatpants. "What is this? A '38? A '45? A sawed-off shotgun? Mister, you're armed and dangerous!" There's only one thing I can do in a situation like this." Dick hopped off the chair, kicked the footrest down, sending the chair's back snapping into its upright position.

Growing increasingly frustrated and aroused by Dick's endless taunting and police double-entendres, not to mention the fact that the uniform alone made him want to throw the vigilante to the ground and ravage him, Garth pleaded and played along. "Officer DICK. Would you PLEASE remove these handcuffs?" He stood and started walking toward his uniformed roommate. Dick set his cap low on his brow, seized Garth by the shoulders, and pulled him close.

"Don't. Get out. Of the chair!" he growled. "Remember, 'Good-Cop'... he kissed Garth tenderly, sweetly, "or 'Bad-Cop.'" He devoured the Atlantean's full lips, sucking -- then biting -- the lower one. "Wadda ya want, G.? Huh? M'I gonna have to *take you in*? You want me to take you in, G., because I can do it!"

Garth's hooded eyes cast their violet gaze on his captor. His breath rushed past his bruised lips, which spread into a smile that reflected his imminent answer. "Then you'll have to do just that, copper!"

Dick's face beamed with delight. He bent and slowly pulled the sweatpants down Garth's hips, past his now-prominent erection, all the way down to his ankles. He then stood and shoved the handcuffed Titan back into the lounger. "You'd better watch where you aim that thing, buddy!" pointing his finger warningly at the heavily bobbing cock.

"Officer Dick..." Garth began.

"Shhh...sit still and be quiet like a good felon. It might buy you some leniency -- although I doubt it." Dick turned to the entertainment center and queued up a CD. The music he had chosen was a lazy and seductive blues number, with a wailing electric guitar opening and a pulse-beat baseline. Interplaying with the crying guitar was a ticklish tease of deft piano finger work, all spiced with a hissing snare drum. A perfect strip-tease accompaniment, chosen well. Just the first few measures were enough to make Garth's rampant member weep with anticipation.

Dick watched his lover's reaction and took a deep breath. He pulled the bill of his cap low across this forehead and strutted slowly forward, syncopating his steps with the sex-pulsed beat of the music, slowly undoing his necktie. He pulled it off, twirling it around his finger. He then wound it around Garth's upright cock with one hand while unbuttoning his starched, white shirt with the other. Turning his back on Garth, Dick slid the shirt off of one muscular shoulder, then the other, drawing it slowly down his back, as he looked over his shoulder at his rapt audience of one. He pulled the shirt back and forth across his ass, while rotating his hips, knees bent slightly. Spinning back to face Garth, he removed the shirt entirely, whipped it above his head like a cowboy's lasso, and sent if flying across the room. Dick grinned sexily sassy now, obviously delighted with the reaction he was getting out of Garth.

The Atlantean sat forwarding the upright lounger, an expression of amused lust on his face, his violet eyes bright and his face flushed slightly. His chest expanded and contracted with his quickened breathing.

Officer Dick swayed and spun, shaking his hips, flexing is back muscles, chest muscles, raising his arms over his head as he undulated, then lowered them, his hands caressing his torso and waist on their sensuous journey to his uniform trousers. He moved rhythmically as he unhitched his trouser belt, and pulled it away to toss it on the floor. He left his holster and sidearm untouched. Garth noticed that the sidearm wasn't BCPD issue -- it was bright green. A water pistol. Dick saw Garth's revelation, drew the pistol and assumed a firing stance, sending a cold stream of water into the sea-dweller's face. Garth laughed heartily out loud. "Thank you, actually that's quite refreshing!" Laughing back, Dick emptied the faux weapon at Garth, then unbuckled the heavy holster belt and pulled it off, holding it over his head as he spun around with it, before laying it across a table. He returned to face Garth, sliding his hands sinuously down his own torso and abdomen to his waist, fingering every rippled muscle along the way. Moving to mere inches from Garth's face, those fingers unclasped the trousers and slid the zipper down, inch by inch. Garth's eyes followed along, unable to look anywhere else.

Hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his uniform trousers, Dick pushed the pants down to his hips. He paused to bend forward to give Garth a smooch on his water pistol-dampened forehead, then he turned his back on the Atlantean and pushed the pants over his hips, all the way to his ankles, bending from the waist, and in the process, provided Garth with a splendid view of his perfect posterior. Feet together, palms to the ground, Dick untied his shoe laces, then his feet lifted out of the shoes, out of the crumpled trousers in a gravity-defying trek upwards, as the acrobatic Titan expertly transitioned from a pike position to an open scissoring air-split to bring his legs together again in a perfect handstand, his policeman's cap dropping to the floor. Dick laughed at Garth from upside-down, then pitched into a quick forward roll and hopped up again, twisting to land facing Garth. He was wearing a tiny black Speedo. Garth laughed aloud, cheered, and whistled. He would have applauded, too, except for the every-annoying handcuffs that restrained him.

"Robbie..." he interrupted, "...the cuffs, please. How can I fully express my appreciation with my hands bound like this?"

Dick strutted forward, his own heavily growing excitement barely concealed by the skimpy garment. Taking Garth's face in his hands, he bent and kissed him, bit his nose lightly, and backed up. "You've never been lacking in imagination, Garth. You'll *come up* with something." He replied suggestively, glancing down at Garth's straining, necktie-wrapped erection.

Spinning away to the sexy music, Dick danced around the chair, then dropped into a backward somersault, whipping the Speedo off fluidly as he rolled, and continued his motion up to a standing position, having grabbed up his previously discarded policeman's cap as he rose. Holding the cap in front of his crotch, he danced some more, laughing at himself in enjoyment, feeling sexy and silly at the same time.

He then walked toward Garth with a "forward-step, side-touch" dance strut, moving one hand from the hat, then switching hands on the next strut, until he had once again moved inches from Garth. He looked down at his lover, his smile beaming, and removed both hands from the policeman's cap. The cap remained -- suspended, impaled -- held aloft by "Officer Dick, Jr." At this, Dick Grayson could no longer suppress the giggle that had been welling in his throat in anticipation of his gravity-defying feat. Then both men burst into laughter, smiling at each other with lust and love.

"Robbie...my hands...love, please." Garth choked out, in tears of mirth.

"Ah, no, can't do that, G...." Dick touched Garth's cheek with one hand, then placed the cap on Garth's head and pushed him and the chair backward into a half-reclined position. He unwound the necktie, pulling it slowly and torturously away from the straining stem. Placing his hands on the armrests of the chair, the circus-born acrobatic Titan easily lifted himself into a perfect handstand, then bent his elbows, slowly lowering himself with those powerful arms, to where his mouth could reach Garth's aching penis. He licked the tip with teasing, cat-like laps, and then drew the engorged head into his mouth, causing Garth to gasp like a fish out of water. Raising and lowering himself with effortlessly powerful pushups with his arms, he tortured his lover with his amazing feat of acrobatic fellatio.

Garth's head dropped back, sending the policeman's cap low over his eyes, blinding him from the erotic performance. "Dick...*please*, take these things off of my hands!" he begged.

Dick tucked and swung down to straddle Garth's hips in the big chair, their naked skin finally touching, and their longsuffering erections finally engaged in heated contact. Dick began to move sensuously, slowly grinding his hips into Garth's, to the music's fuck-tempo. His hands ran upward from the Atlantean's abs to this broad chest and past his shoulders, to rest on either side of his head against the back of the chair. Dick's body slid against Garth's, making as much contact as possible in their positions. The acrobat ran his tongue from the hollow of Garth's throat up to his chin, then he closed his mouth on the other's in a long, searching kiss, his tongue thrusting at the same tempo as his hips. He pulled out of the kiss, trailed his lips across Garth's jaw to his ear, where he whispered, "No can do, my love. I know you, you 'evil-doer.' You'll just do that 'finger-waving magic-y' thing you do with your hands, and then I'll get *all* bubbly-headed, and be at your total mercy." Dick sat up partially, keeping the grinding contact between their swollen sexes, and retrieved his cap, donning it with a flushed smirk.

Panting now, "...but Richard...you -- you like...being at my...mercy." Garth's violet eyes blazed with amethyst fire, seizing Dick's crystal blue gaze in a deliberate ocular attack. Dick suddenly relaxed, a dreamy smile spread across his handsome face as he fell into the exotic, purple glow. Oh, how he'd missed those eyes, and the hypnotic, erotic effect they had on him.

"Ohhh, yeah...I do...I...--NO! NononononoNO! Looking away, Dick broke the visual charm his lover had cast over him. He shook his head to clear the velvet, violet fog. "Uh-*UH*, Garth, Not that, not yet!" To ensure his "safety," Dick abruptly stopped humping. He reached across his lover -- carefully avoiding Garth's eyes -- over the arm of the chair to the end table beside the chair. He pulled open the drawer and extracted a small tube of lubricant. Sitting up again, he faced Garth, placed the tube lightly between his teeth, wrinkled his nose at his lover, then lifted himself once again into an easy handstand, switching hands on the armrests, and pivoting around before tucking and lowering himself back into the straddle, this time with his back to Garth. Removing the tube from his teeth, he smirked over his shoulder, "HA! You can't use your evil mind-control on me now, felon. I've got you now, and it looks like I'm gonna have to take you into custody!" And with that, Dick resumed his lap dance to the grinding blues refrain, reaching behind him with well-lubricated fingers, inserting one, then two digits into his inviting opening, preparing himself to incarcerate Garth's cock.

"Oh, by Pallais, Robbie, I am begging you, take these damnable things off my hands NOW!" Garth's deep voice growled even deeper, resonating through his body as he watched his tease-of-a-lover ease slowly down onto his throbbing, blunt member. Ignoring the Atlantean's demands, Dick proceeded to fuck Garth like a courtesan, moving with serpentine grace, gliding the large cock deliciously over his sensitive prostate gland. He made sure that every muscle visible to his lover danced with erotic effect.

Breathless, all Garth could do was to pump back, but it wasn't nearly enough, he wanted his hands on that beautiful body, on the acrobat's back, his chest, his ass, his thighs, his belly, his cock. He wanted to grasp him closer and taste every inch of skin he could reach. Fevered with passion, he wanted to drive himself as deeply as he could into his lover's body.

Dick felt his partner's frustration and gleefully quickened his rhythm. The music ended, leaving Dick to set his own tempo now. He reached down to take his own demanding shaft into his hand and stroked it in time with his accelerated movements. He was close; he sensed that Garth was close. Dick shut his eyes and went soaring in his mind. Then deep in his chest, it started: the soft, low, melodious laughter that signaled his impending release.

That familiar passion-song did it for Garth. He would bear this no longer! His eyes took on a glow, from violet to white. He drew upon the elemental energy from deep within his cells, and sent a controlled burst of energy through his hands, disintegrating the handcuffs to cinders. The energy pulse from his actions to liberate his restrained hands reverberated its counterflow through his body like a small tsunami, as always, but he had never expelled this energy in such close contact with another being before. Instead of washing back through his own body, Garth's residual elemental power pulse pushed outward, conducted through the point of contact with that being, into his impaled lover!

"WHOA--OHHHH! Holy Jeezus, OMIGOD-OMIGOD -- GAARRRTH!!!" Dick's soft laughter erupted into an ecstatic shout as the burst of energy coursed through his astonished body, bringing him to an instantaneous, shuddering, brain-melting climax, his hot spendings jetted across his chest and abdomen. His muscles hummed like a struck tuning fork. Dick then lost all voluntary muscle control and pitched forward, beginning to fall out of the chair.

Garth, yet unfulfilled, caught the limp vigilante, not wanting to break their sexual contact, and moved them both, still conjoined, to the floor. Still trembling with his orgasm, Dick could only rest his head on his arms as he was held tightly, on his knees and elbows, his wildly impassioned lover pounding forcefully into him, their bodies slapping together audibly. With a final deep thrust and a deeper growl, Garth came mightily, sending pulse after pulse of his seed into his lover's still-quaking body.

Garth rested his head between Dick's shoulder blades for a moment, gasping wordlessly for breath. He slipped out of him, then pulled them both to lie on their sides on the floor, spooned, spent and panting.

A lazy smile crept across Dick's lips, and he began to chuckle softly. He opened his eyes and finger-walked one hand to reach his abandoned uniform hat. He pulled it back slowly and placed it lop-sidedly on his head. "Y'know, Garth, those were department-issue handcuffs. I'll have to replace them on my dime..." he quipped.

"You can replace our dinner, too, while your at it, 'Officer Dick', because it is most certainly ruined. Pallais, I need a shower!" The Atlantean stirred, sat up, and pulled his companion up with him. "You need one, too, Mister Sticky. Let's go."

"Oh, you are so mistaken if you think I can walk, Garth." Dick laughed, trying to hold himself up against Garth with his unresponsive muscles, as Garth pulled him to his feet.

The sea-dweller effortlessly swept his limp-limbed lover up into his arms and started toward their master bathroom. "Then don't bother trying, my little lap-dancer."

"Little? Hey, mook, I still have my nightstick!" Dick growled in warning.

"Ah, yes," Garth glanced at Dick's quiescent member, "it must be the collapsible kind," he joked.

Dick's eyes followed Garth's violet gaze. "Heh, heh, I *do* resemble dat remark, G. I do at dat." He was still chuckling when Garth carried him through the bathroom door.

In the shower, Garth washed himself and hydrated, while Dick leaned up against his back, his limbs still rubbery from the anal energy burst he'd received. "What the hell *was* that, Garth? What fuck did you do to me? That was a *lot* more than just the finger-waving magic-y' thingie!" Dick accused him mirthfully. He looked with bemusement down at his wiggling fingers, trying to will his unresponsive arms to lift. Garth turned and pushed his love back against the shower wall and soaped him down, washing him as if he were a child.

"It's your own fault, Robbie. I couldn't bear to keep those cuffs on any longer. I wanted -- I needed -- to touch you. I simply used my elemental power to destroy the handcuffs. *I'm* used to the backwash effect of the residual energy in my body, but I'm guessing that, having a conductive conduit to exit my body, it traveled through to you."

"You mean I had a lightning rod up my ass?" Dick smirked, thoroughly enjoying his bath.

"In a manner of speaking, yes, -- or, a 'Tempest in your teapot'!" Garth laughed as he rinsed his "rag doll" under the warm spray, then turned off the water and toweled them both dry.

He assisted Dick out of the bathroom and to their bed. Dick fell forward onto the bed, then turned over onto his back, and gazed up at Garth, who remained standing. "Hey, where're you going?" he complained, shaking the feeling back into his arms.

"I thought I'd go see what's salvageable of our dinner." Garth explained (or perhaps not, look at what lay before him on that bed).

"Fuck dinner. Come to bed." Dick smiled, stretching indulgently, like a cat, and linked his hands behind his head. A command, a challenge, an invitation, it didn't matter, as long as it got the result he was after.

"I thought you were hungry, Richard." Garth smiled as he stretched out next to the beautiful naked form he never tired of. He caressed a lean flank lovingly. Dick rolled onto his side, into that caress and pulled Garth to him, kissing him long and deep and languorously, his hands roaming freely over his lover's defined musculature. After a few minutes they came up for air. Forehead to forehead, his fingers idly twined in Garth's curly locks, Dick spoke quietly. "If I neglected to say so earlier, Garth, welcome home. I missed you. A lot. You've been out of my life for eight days -- I don't want you out of my reach for eight minutes. No dinner. Just you."

Dick kissed Garth's nose, chin, throat, then trailed his kisses across the aquatic Titan's broad chest, suckling the sensitive nipples momentarily before following his kisses down the trail of downy, dark hair to Garth's reawakening sex. Dick took the pulsing shaft in his hand and looked back up at Garth's face with a mischievous twinkle in his sky blue eyes. "We can always order out for pizza, Merman..." giving Garth's erection a squeeze and a teasing lick, "...or, I can just have fresh sushi -- I'll have one Atlantean roll, extra large, please, and hold the wasabi!"

Garth lay back, closed his eyes, and surrendered once again to his beloved officer of the law, very happy to be home at last.


	6. Sea and Sky: And This is My Beloved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by SKH. Garth gives praise to Pallais for his Beloved. NC-17.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to Kerithwyn, Dannell, and all Sea and Sky contributing authors

Pallais, I give thanks for my beloved and for having found his heart, a treasure long buried in the hidden depths of his loneliness.

Shall I tell you of my beloved? Shall I tell you how he delights and charms me, sing the praises of the warmth of his smile, or weep for the chill of his scarred soul?

Let me tell you of my beloved, and how he loves me.

His eyes, at once mirthful and haunting, are bluer than the bright Caribbean, yet become dark like a hurricane sky at the height of his passion. And what passion! All the love -- and expression of it -- that has always been denied him by the one to whom he has always been so dedicated, and will be unto death, is poured forth for me to consume in great, heady draughts. Pallais, I am blessed when he is in my arms, my beautiful Richard.

He likes to make love in his big easy chair -- the one that reclines. I should say, he likes for me to make love to him in that chair. On those wonderful, rare nights when he’s not required to work, and chooses to stay at home instead of patrolling his city, our love moves from room to room.

He will pull me, smiling, into his arms. Lips meet lips, then necks, shoulders, and progressively more of our bodies, as our garments are shed like sea-snake skins. My beautiful Richard laughs, and whispers, and calls my name. And I tremble from anticipation of his touches and kisses.

He devours me. Every part of me is tasted and relished.

He will climb into my arms, as if trying to meld with my own body -- as if he cannot be held closely enough. He explores my mouth with his, as the great seafarers of old once searched the oceans, full of adventure and excitement. He runs his hands through my hair, plays them lightly across my skin -- so careful, so self-conscious of the roughness of those hands, their skin hardened by a lifetime of catching himself, in defiance of gravity’s beckoning call to the Earth.

He will coax me, with low words of need, to recline in that large, soft chair, as he lies beside me, on me, against me. Sometimes our passion is so impatient that we thrust against each other in that chair, his legs entwined with mine, his arms supporting him above me, his mouth on mine, drawing my breath from me in exchange for his. My hands sing a rhapsody along his body, that exquisite and perfect body. Made for lovemaking. Made for me. Given freely to me, time after time.

Or he will draw me inside him and lie back against my chest, legs tucked beneath him, inviting my hands to caress all they can reach. He shifts to one side slightly and turns that breathtaking face toward mine and takes my kisses from me, as he gives me his own. We will lie quietly, joined together, as only his strong inner muscles move, to milk me. My hands -- the hands he loves to praise so often -- in turn, milk him. Sometimes he will ride me furiously, cresting wave after wave of sensation until we are nearly drowned in the deluge of each other.

Then we will lie spent in that chair. I love to hold him in my arms and feel his heart beating against my chest, feel the moist warmth of his breath against my throat. And sometimes he will anoint me with his tears, little salt seas offered to me in testament of the happiness of his fulfillment. How he lived empty for so many years I cannot imagine. Ever only partially filled. He tells me his heart had dwelled in drought, and that my cooling waters have brought him to life.

Pallais, I love him. I love him. And he loves me.


	7. Foundering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by SKH. Dick needs rescuing. NC-17.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ©April 2002  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Characters: Nightwing, Tempest  
> Continuity: Kerithwyn's fanfic slash-saga, Sea and Sky  
> Thanks to J.C. for the "Alfred's liniment" bit from "Just Another Day"  
> Disclaimer: Above-mentioned characters are owned by DC Comics. No profit is realized from creation of stories based on these characters.

A near-naked Nightwing stood shivering on the transport ship's deck. Stripped of his uniform, gauntlets, and boots — leaving him clad only in his mask and black Speedo briefs — he showed no emotion as he was tightly bound. Rough nylon rope bit into the flesh of his arms, pulled behind him and wrapped constrictively from elbows to wrists. His ankles were likewise bound, in addition to the heavy chain that was now being secured to the undercarriage of one of the hundreds of stolen vehicles that made up the ship's cargo.

Nightwing had been investigating the epidemic of stolen vehicles over a five county area, including Haven and Gotham. He had worked his way up from street-level car theft rings up to his present company, enforcers from the Kandinski family, Blüdhaven's chapter of the Transbelvian mafia.

He wouldn't be in his current predicament if he hadn't felt compelled to make his presence on the ship known. From an unseen viewpoint inside the ship's cargo hold, Nightwing had been looking over the stolen cars when it happened — the harness on the vehicle being lowered into the hold broke. Darting out of his shadowy observation post, Nightwing shoved a crewman out of the way of the plummeting quarter-ton of death. The man would have been crushed if not for the vigilante. Nightwing received a glancing blow to his right hip by the car for his efforts.

Exposed, Nightwing had been immediately targeted and besieged by several armed mobsters. Still, they were no match for the Blüdhaven hero. Nightwing had gotten the best of them when Kandinski Lieutenant Mikki Jannek shouted to him from several feet away. The grim-faced Jannek held a gun to the head of the shaken crewman Nightwing had just risked his life for. He threatened to spill the man's brains if Nightwing didn't stand down.

"I say we pop a cap in his punk-ass," one of Jannek's men had snarled as two of his fellow thugs roughly subdued the vigilante. The man's face had been bloodied, courtesy of one of Nightwing's roundhouse kicks.

Surveying the damaged car with disgust, Jannek turned his gaze back to their captive. "I have a better idea for this so-called hero," he'd smirked, still pointing his handgun at the terrified crewman's head.

Nightwing watched Jannek's finger begin to squeeze the trigger. Knowing he would need freedom to move, a diversion, and a split second of time, Nightwing had activated the taser webbing in his suit. The resulting electric shock had thrown his two burly captors violently backward. Nightwing lunged forward, palming and throwing one of his customized batarangs at Jannek.

Jannek was pivoting to fire at the oncoming Nightwing when the projectile struck him in the shoulder. The gun had discharged, its bullet smashing into Nightwing's Kevlar-protected right thigh. The impact knocked his leg out from under him, and he rolled with the fall. Before Nightwing could rise to his feet, another thug smashed him in the back of the head with the butt of a shotgun.

Nightwing had come-to on the deck of the ship, his clothing and equipment removed, as Jannek's mooks bound him securely. Darkness had fallen, and the ship was now headed for open water.

"What's the matter, hero, are you cold?" taunted the same thug who had earlier endorsed blowing Nightwing's head off. The man sneered and threw Nightwing's suit, gauntlets, and boots overboard.

"Not as cold as you are stupid, asshole," Nightwing replied.

The man rushed over to the bound vigilante, his pistol drawn, and shoved it in Nightwing's face.

"Mikki, let me kill him now," the man angrily spat.

Jannek waved his brother back. "No, Pierko. Shooting him is too easy. He's caused trouble and spilled blood. I want him to think about that as he's drowning." Jannek stepped in front of Nightwing, standing close enough for Nightwing to feel his breath on his face. "If anyone recovers your body — and I doubt they will — I want them to see your pathetic little mask as the only testament to your doomed crusade, hero."

Nightwing's only response was to head-butt the mobster in the face.

"Stupid Fuck!" Pierko Jannek screamed as he smashed the butt of his pistol across Nightwing's cheek.

The vigilante dropped to his bare knees, shaking off the wave of pain and disorientation. His action, though resulting in a predictably painful retaliation, served a purpose. With his arm and leg gear gone, Nightwing's only method of communication was the tiny vid-cam configuration in his mask, which he had hands-free activated with his violent contact with Mikki Jannek's face. Hopefully it was undamaged, and hopefully it was transmitting a signal to Oracle.

Garth carefully picked over a pile of fresh avocados. He picked up one and then another, giving each a little shake, testing for ripeness. Unannounced and ahead of schedule, Garth had returned to Blüdhaven from an ambassadorial business trip. Noting the characteristically sparse contents of Dick Grayson's refrigerator, Garth had set out for one of the few pleasant places he'd found that the old whaling city had to offer — a fresh market that had been converted from an old riverside warehouse and dock. The sun had been down for about a half hour, and the market began to surge with some of Blüdhaven's newer young professional residents. Products of the post-earthquake gentrification, they also were taking the time to shop after work.

Placing his selection in a hand-held basket, Garth stepped outdoors to look over the dockside tables. The temperature began to drop as twilight settled on the market. Twinkling lights illuminated potted ornamental trees, giving the place a less gloomy and foreboding atmosphere than was the norm in Blüdhaven. In another hour the market would be closed, though. The shoppers would hopefully be ensconced in the relative safety of their homes, leaving the streets to the dangers that stalked there.

But stalking the danger in return would be Blüdhaven's young guardian, Nightwing. Garth smiled at the thought as he cast his eyes over the darkening waters of the river. Dick would be surprised at his unexpected homecoming, and Garth would greet his weary but happy lover with food and affection, and later....

The sound of his Titans' communicator interrupted Garth's thoughts. The "civilian model" Dick had given Garth was a sleek, pressure resistant diver's watch. Garth set his basket down and walked toward the end of the pier, away from the other shoppers as he responded to the call.

"Yes?" he answered.

"Oh, thank goodness! Garth, I need your location and availability. We have a situation."

"What's the emergency, Barbara? I'm at the market. The one by the river."

"I'm getting spotty video transmission from Nightwing. He's on a case and it looks like he's in a little bit of a jam. How fast can you get into the water?"

Garth looked over his shoulder at the preoccupied shoppers, then stepped to the edge of the pier and looked into the dark water. "About one second. Where is he?"

"On an outbound freighter, the 'Mariposa,' about five miles off the coast and headed southeast."

"I'm on my way."

Garth dove off the pier into the murky blackness.

Rough hands grasped Nightwing beneath his armpits and yanked him to his feet. A forklift approached the damaged automobile Nightwing was chained to. Its forks crashed through the windows, lifting the car from the deck.

Mikki Jannek, now sporting a growing shiner, gestured to the forklift driver to move the car toward the edge of the ship. Crewmembers removed a section of the railing, making room for the car to be "offloaded."

Jannek's men dragged Nightwing closer to the side of the ship along with the vehicle. Just before they all reached the edge, Jannek signaled the forklift driver to stop. The car was lowered to just above the surface of the deck.

"I hope you can hold your breath, hero," the Transbelvian snarled. "And just to be a good sport, you won't be down there alone."

Jannek motioned to his brother. Pierko, grinning maliciously, opened the car's trunk. Inside lay the body of the crewman Nightwing had risked his case and life for, shot through the temple. Rage bubbled up inside the vigilante. He pushed up into the support of the thugs who held him fast, swinging his legs out to smash into Pierko's jaw, sending the man flying backward. Nightwing's only regret was that the trajectory wasn't right to send the filthy swine over the ship's edge first.

Furious at Nightwing's assault on his younger brother, Mikki Jannek screamed, "Push it over now!!"

The forklift whined, the car groaned and disappeared over the edge of the ship. Dropped to the deck by his handlers, Nightwing braced himself for the painful pursuit of the falling vehicle. His bare skin scraped over the rough decking before the bottom dropped out from beneath him.

Nightwing had only a split-second to anticipate how and where to contort his body to avoid falling on top of the car when it hit. He knew the car wouldn't submerge immediately, and impact with the water's surface — while not unlike smashing into concrete from the height from which he'd been dropped — was still preferable to hitting the automobile.

And that impact came as hard as Nightwing had expected. He managed to twist just enough to land beside the car, the wind knocked out of him, and body slammed with excruciating pain. He fought mightily to stay conscious, despite his agony. His next sensation was the icy cold of the water, and the steady tug of the chains binding his legs. The car began sinking faster now. Nightwing had only a moment to gasp a precious lungful of air before he disappeared beneath the black surface of the ocean.

For a few seconds he struggled valiantly to loosen his bonds. Without the tools compartmentalized in his gauntlets and boots, though, he had no way to cut or burn his way to freedom.

Thoughts raced through Nightwing's head as he was pulled downward into the murky cold: he estimated the depth of the ocean, how long it might take before reaching the bottom, wondered how long he could hold his breath as the water pressure increased, if was Babs watching....

Oh shit. If his mask's video signal was transmitting, she would be watching... and she'd be witnessing the last thing he would see. Lungs burning, Nightwing imagined how she would tell Bruce, Alfred—

— Garth....

"Oh, love," Dick thought of his Titans companion, friend and lover, "I'm so sorry...."

The increasing pressure of the ocean's depths constricted Dick's chest, forcing him to gradually expel the lungful of air he'd fought so hard to retain. He was starving for oxygen, freezing from the bone-chilling water, and still he traveled downward. He had no concept now of how long he'd been in the water, no concentration left to calculate the speed of his decent.

Fireworks of red and white exploded in his mind as his brain began the process of shutting down his body's functions. Dick could no longer feel his limbs, or the motion of his decent. He clutched at his fragmented thoughts as he had grasped the trapeze bar the first time he had flown in practice, with his father. Sadness washed through his barely conscious mind as images of his life with his parents, with Bruce, the Titans, Tim, Barbara, and Garth raced along his failing neurons.

Without knowing it, Dick exhaled the last of the stale air as the crushing depths embraced him, taking possession of another drowning soul.

o  
Oo  
O  
O  
o

And then a curious sensation of warmth began to envelop Dick. His mind's dying spectrum brightened from dark red to a vivid purple. Though he was certain — as certain as his failing brain could be — that his eyes were closed, a spectral vision approached him from afar. It grew from a tiny indigo pinpoint to a splendid, angelic appearance of purple and white.

"Beautiful. So beautiful. Love. My love. Mine." More a spiritual sensation than a cognitive thought, Dick's vision took on the appearance of his beautiful Atlantean mage, his friend and lover. His Garth.

Dick's spectral lover approached him and softly pressed warm and tender lips to his. Tiny explosions of light ignited in Dick's brain. He pushed instinctively into that kiss with the last of his strength.

No longer sinking, Dick floated, suspended in a warm, purple womb, casually breathing...something...as if he'd done it all his life. His vision-Garth pulled back and smiled, violet eyes warm and welcoming. Dick smiled back, then laughter bubbled giddily out of him. It was Garth, truly, but how??...

Oracle. Babs. Dick grinned.

For a few precious seconds, Garth vanished below, into the darkness beyond Dick's bound legs. The vehicular anchor Dick was chained to seemed to stabilize in its descent. Curious, Dick's eyes followed Garth. His visual acuity in the salt water was now heightened — another benefit of the Atlantean mage's life-giving spell. The weight of the sunken car no longer pulled at Dick. He watched as Garth quickly attached flotation devices — inflated by cartridges of compressed air — to the submerged vehicle.

Garth then swam back up to Dick and joyfully placed his hands on Dick's face. He kissed Dick again, much warmer than the first time. Willingly, Dick opened his mouth to receive Garth's tongue, yielding to the lingering oral caress. Garth's hands left Dick's face to slide sensually along the sides of his neck. They moved to Dick's shoulders and down his arms, leaving a tingling trail as nerve endings responded to invigorating heat. Dick interrupted their kiss with a smile. He imagined Garth's hands were leaving a phosphorescent trail along his body, like the bioluminescent "pixie dust" effect they had seen on their last magic-enhanced deep water sojourn. The thought was silly. The memory was enchanting.

Garth's lips moved to Dick's throat and paused over the pulsing artery. His teeth nipped expertly at the familiar, sensitive spot. Dick was rapt with the pleasure of it and shuddered, not for the chill of the water. When Garth released his throat Dick ached with want. His heart was pounding, his blood coursing, his temperature — and something else — rising. Garth's mouth traveled lightly down Dick's collarbone to his chest. Nimble lips and tongue suckled hungrily on Dick's nipples, sending an electrical charge surging throughout his body, but primarily to his awakening genitals.

Dick lowered his head to watch his lover as Garth's hands now slid down his torso to his thighs. Dick winced and contracted as Garth reached his injured leg, though the mage's hands were gentle. Dick knew Garth was warming him, pulling him out of the clutches of hypothermia. Garth's violet gaze found and locked with Dick's eyes, apologetic in their expression. He wrapped his arms around Dick's hips, resting his cheek against the swelling heaviness of Dick's sex through the thin undergarment. Growing impatient with the bonds on his arms and legs, Dick squirmed. Garth looked up again, and grinned. He pressed a kiss to Dick's barely clad cock, and descended farther to address the chains around Dick's ankles.

A white flash indicated Garth's breaking the heavy links with his bare hands, thanks to concentrated, rapid heating and cooling of the metal. A second later, Dick was kicking his legs free, moving away from the car. It remained stationary, hovering tomblike in the blackness. Dick offered a silent, somber prayer for the murdered crewman who lay in the trunk of the car. The man's body would be recovered and returned to his family, as well as to provide further evidence of the Janneks' crimes.

Dick was again pulled into the Atlantean's arms and held tenderly in a loving embrace. Garth's lips nuzzled Dick's ear, then found Dick's mouth again. The lovers' kiss lasted the lengthy duration of their ascent to the ocean's surface. As impatient as Dick was to be completely freed from his bondage, he wasn't about to complain. He didn't have long to wait, though, before Garth — reaching around him — snapped the nylon rope tying Dick's limbs. Relieved, Dick raised his sore arms, linking them appreciatively around Garth's neck.

When Dick and Garth broke the surface of the ocean into wind-whipped waves, they were immediately bathed in a flood of light from above. With one arm around Dick's waist, Garth grabbed a suspended rope ladder with the other. Dick didn't have to ask where the ladder came from, or to where they would be lifted. Nor had he questioned the origin of the flotation devices that now preserved the precious evidence of murder and attempted-murder. Dick merely grabbed the ladder's rungs and began hand-over-hand pulling himself up far enough to get a landing with his good foot. Garth was right behind him, gripping the ladder and holding his teammate securely as the ladder retracted toward the hovering Batcopter.

The two Titans were barely inside the copter when Nightwing yelled hoarsely to the pilot, "Drop a marker!" A green-gloved hand signaled a "thumbs-up" and a flashing strobe/global-positioning satellite tracking marker dropped into the black water beneath them. Garth slid the door of the Batcopter closed.

"I don't suppose you brought me a suit!" Nightwing shouted to Batman's junior partner. Robin skillfully maneuvered the aircraft away from Nightwing's foundering site.

"Co-pilot's seat!" Robin replied, grinning broadly. "Oracle and I thought you were a goner, bro! Welcome back!"

Dick started for the copilot's seat, then halted and turned to his fellow Titan and lover. He smiled, gripped Garth by the back of the neck and pulled the Atlantean to him, locking lips joyfully. He released his grip, sliding his hand around to cup Garth's cheek.

"In case I forgot to say so, 'thank you'," Dick smiled.

Garth's hand closed over Dick's. He turned to kiss his lover's still-cold palm. "Tell me again during our debriefing," he replied.

Dick opened his mouth to retort, but Garth held up his finger, shushing the smirking wisecrack before it had a chance to emerge into vocalization.

"Get dressed. Unless it's slipped your mind, you're still freezing cold."

Dick's happy, crooked grin was his tacit comeback, and he reached between the aircraft's seats to grab his clothing.

Robin glanced at Nightwing, his toothy grin still in place. "Dude. Turn the mask-cam off. Oracle's getting aaalll this on disk."

Dick's response was to lay a salty smacker on his younger brother-in-arms' cheek. "What can I say, little bro'... I am the 'greatest show on earth!'" He touched the side of his mask to terminate the micro video feed. Before he disappeared into the back of the 'copter, Nightwing — his tone growing more grim — issued a request to the young pilot. "Buzz that ship, Robin!"

"You got it! You'll have company, though. Oracle's already notified the Coast Guard. Look!"

Nightwing glanced out the windshield of the cockpit at the Mariposa. She was flanked by three Coast Guard cutters, their emergency beacons flashing and floodlights trained on the ship. The Blüdhaven vigilante quickly pulled his suit on, barely conscious of the stinging scrapes on his body, and the deep, painful bruising of his right leg and hip.

The Batcopter had barely reached the Mariposa when Nightwing launched himself out of the doorway, swinging lithely down to the deck on a decel line. Tempest followed, sliding down the same jumpline as the Batcopter hovered above the ship. Robin radioed a Coast Guard cutter below him, to notify them of the location beacon he'd dropped to mark the stabilized sunken automobile.

The armed Coast Guard boarding parties had already secured the ship's bridge and were rounding up the crew, bringing them all topside. Nightwing approached the commander of the Guard's crew. He scanned the growing complement of the Mariposa crew and Transbelvian thugs. Mikki Jannek glowered at him from out of the crowd. Nightwing saw Jannek's gaze shoot upward momentarily. The mobster smirked. In a split-second, Nightwing spun, locating Pierko Jannek on an upper deck of the ship's superstructure. He palmed and threw a Batarang with deadly accuracy. The projectile hit the rifle, which was aimed at the Coast Guard crewmen. A shot discharged, harmlessly deflected. The bullet struck a section of deck beyond the crowd.

Pierko, however, lost his balance and, screaming, pitched over the railing toward the deck below. Nightwing was faster, though. He fired off a line and went airborne. Nightwing caught the younger Jannek brother before the man could splatter onto the deck. As Nightwing landed with his cargo, the strong smell of urine hit his nose. In his terror, Jannek had voided his bladder.

"Hey, ass-wipe! You pissed yourself!" Nightwing snarled, pushing Pierko away from him.

Still trembling with fear, Pierko looked down at his soaked crotch. Nightwing's foot shot out, smashing the Transbelvian thug in the chin. The man flew backward, landing heavily and unconscious on the deck.

"Made ya look, you piece of shit," Nightwing muttered as he turned to go back to the Guard commander. He passed an armed officer who rushed to take custody of the younger Jannek. "He's all yours, pal," Nightwing quipped with a short wave of his hand.

Limping slightly from the aggravated pain in his right leg and hip, Nightwing continued into the throng of the Mariposa's crew who stood under guard. His eyes never left Mikki Jannek, who tried unsuccessfully to disappear into the group. Nightwing launched himself at the Transbelvian.

The Coast Guard cutter commander started to protest, but was stopped by Tempest's extended arm. "I don't see anything. Do you see anything, sir?" Tempest casually queried.

The commander turned his gaze away from the screaming thug to look at the Atlantean Titan. "See what?" he replied, the corner of his mouth turned slightly upward.

Before Nightwing had completed his "interrogation" of Mikki Jannek, the murderer had one-upped his younger brother, losing control of both bladder and bowels.

Nightwing rejoined his teammate, limping painfully on his injured leg now. After the two Titans gave statements to the Coast Guard commander, Nightwing and Tempest made their way to the Batcopter's unfurled rope ladder. Nightwing stoically refused assistance, despite the growing pain in his leg.

However, after they were several feet above the deck, retracting toward the hovering Batcopter, Nightwing allowed himself a fatigued smile. "Can we go home now?" he wearily asked his teammate.

Tempest gripped Nightwing's wrist as the ladder rose. "I think that's a good idea," he agreed with relief.

It hadn't taken long for the Teen Wonder, with the Batcopter running on stealth mode, to drop the Titans off for an unseen landing on the rooftop of Dick Grayson's apartment building. Moments later, Dick and Garth walked through the disguised passageway between Dr. Fledermaus' and Dick's apartments.

Dick crossed the living room to his computer, to check in with Oracle, confirming what she already knew from Robin to be a successful rescue and arrest.

"Looks like I owe you again, Red," Dick grinned, peeling off his uniform shirt.

"Just leave the computer's vid-cam on while you shed those britches and we'll call it quits, Hunk-Wonder," Barbara laughed.

Garth reached around Dick and waved his fingers, glowing like St. Elmo's fire, at the monitor. "I'm afraid we're experiencing technical difficulty, Oracle," he laughed as the onscreen image wavered and faded.

"I get the picture," Barbara's voice crackled with static. "Or rather, I don't..." Her image and voice faded to black as the Atlantean shut down the computer. Turning his concerned gaze on Dick, he spoke almost reproachfully.

"You need warmth. Shower. Now. Then we'll attend to your... injuries."

Dick pulled off his mask and eased down onto the couch. He chuckled softly, "I have a LOT of boo-boos to kiss, O Caretaker of Mine."

Dick bent to pull off his boots, exposing the angry scrapes along his back where he'd been dragged across the deck of the ship. Garth slowly began to remove his own clothing, eyeing his beloved with concern. The injuries that he'd been too preoccupied to give much notice to earlier were revealed as Dick undressed. Dick wearily lay back to lift up his hips to push his leggings down over his ass, revealing a large, black and spreading bruise on his right hip that contrasted with his fair skin. Again Dick winced and sucked in his breath as he slid the tight fabric over the painful contusion.

"Wait," Garth pleaded, "let me help with the rest of that." He knelt and slowly eased the leggings down further to expose the ugly, deep bruise from the Kevlar-diffused gunshot. Garth's slightly audible gasp of surprise followed, unexpected and unintended.

Propping himself up on his elbows, Dick first observed the bruises. He curiously considered them to be sort of artful — even if they hurt like a bitch — but certainly not the worst of the career injuries he had suffered over the years. He then looked at Garth, whose tender compassion was written all over the man's face. The quip that had been on Dick's lips about needing help undressing, died there as Dick remembered — and then appreciated — he now had a partner who didn't routinely treat near-fatal injuries as casually as a mosquito bite.

Dick sat up. Spreading his legs, he pulled Garth between them, bent and embraced his rescuer. He rested his cheek against the soft, black curls of his lover's head as he stroked Garth's cheek. In return, Garth's arms encircled Dick's waist.

"A successful mission is one where you come home alive, you know. I have that on the highest, pointy-eared authority." Dick's voice was deep and soft, reverberating in Garth's ear that was pressed to the Former Boy Wonder's chest.

Garth pressed a kiss to Dick's chest before rising to his feet. Taking his partner's hands in his, he pulled the bruised hero to his feet, then whisked off the leggings and the small, thong undergarment, leaving Dick gloriously naked, if slightly goose-pimply.

"Shower together now?" Garth asked quietly.

The loud growl from Dick's abdomen was the obvious answer. Giving the Atlantean a lopsided grin, Dick patted his tummy and shook his head. "Nah, if I get in that shower with you I probably won't come out conscious, and I'm starvin'! And I'm sure you've noticed I have totally nada in the fridge, too."

"Yes, I noticed, and I was in the process of procuring something to feed us when Oracle called me," Garth answered, amusement overtaking his immediate concern for Dick's injuries.

Dick shrugged culpably. "I've got a twenty in the pocket of my jacket on the back of the door," he gestured, "and 'The Excellent Dumpling' delivers. What I'd reallllly like is to do the 'three-s's' and then have whatever Chinese food you decide to order." Dick leaned forward to capture Garth's full lips with his own in a hungry kiss. Stepping back, he winked, grabbed his cock in his hand, waggled it impishly at his companion, and strode toward the connecting passageway.

Calling back over his shoulder, Dick announced, "I'll clean up in the next apartment and gather up the stuff to work on my boo-boos. See you in a few!"

'Three-S's.' Shit-shower-and-shave. A crude expression Dick had learned from the circus roustabouts somewhere during his early childhood. It was certainly a phrase he quickly learned never to repeat in the presence of Wayne Manor's major domo, Alfred Pennyworth. But it was necessary, and once completed, Dick Grayson felt like a new, though very weary, human being. And while the offer to join his lover in the hot, steamy water was almost too tempting, Dick had wanted to check out his battle-wounds without causing Garth any more alarm than he already had. Sometimes stoicism could only take a Dark Squire so far.

Clad only in loose, cotton-knit work-out pants, Dick stepped through the clandestine doorway between the gym/workshop/medical facility that was officially Dr. Fledermaus' apartment, and his own living space. The fragrance of the newly delivered meal of Chinese take-out wafted past his nose, leading him back to the couch in the living room. Garth was arranging their dinner on the coffee table. He had also considerately arranged pillows for Dick to recline there.

"My hero," Dick smiled appreciatively as he deposited his handful of medical supplies on the end table.

"Hm. I'm not sure if that would be for this evening's rescue or for ordering our dinner," Garth replied with dry amusement. Showered, shirtless and wearing a pair of black silk pajama pants, Garth picked up a bottle of wine and began to open it.

Dick eased sorely onto the end of the couch with the propped up pillows. "I didn't know the 'Dumpling' delivered wine," he grinned. "I'll have to go easy on that stuff or I'll be out like a light before I have a chance to thank you properly for tonight."

Garth gave a low chuckle. "I'll go easy on you, in all respects." He poured a glass of the Merlot and handed it to Dick. "Sip. Slowly. And what's that you brought out with you?"

Dick accepted the glass, picked up a tube of antibiotic ointment and held it out to Garth. "I thought maybe you could get the places I couldn't reach," he said, sipping from his glass to disguise the sly grin creeping across his lips.

Garth gave Dick a skeptical look as he accepted the ointment. "I've seen you twist into boneless contortions, my acrobrat! I don't believe there's a centimeter of your body you can't put your hands on!"

"C'mon, Garth, work with me here. I was shooting for adorably wounded and needful," Dick smirked.

"It worked, of course," Garth smiled. He sat next to Dick and pulled him forward just a bit to gain access to the long, angry scrape on his back.

"I know," Dick grinned smugly. "I was forced to hone my acting skills on the two stoniest, most impassive and unimpressionable men in the world." He reached out and grabbed a spring roll from a plate on the table.

"Oh you're skillful, I'll grant you that." Garth began to apply the slick ointment to the ugly scrape on Dick's back.

"Yep. A born talent," Dick winked, turning his head so that Garth could see him slowly and suggestively lick and suckle the phallus-shaped food. Mischievous sapphire eyes teased his caregiver as Dick finally popped the entire roll into his mouth, devouring it with gusto.

Garth laughed, capped the tube of antibiotic cream in his defeat. "You are incorrigible! We should just eat dinner then, and take care of your wounds later — except that scrape is a nasty one, and it runs all the way down to your—"

Pressing a finger to Garth's lips, Dick interrupted, blue-eyed sincerity claiming victory over humor. "I know how far down it goes, and how uncomfortable it is, 'cause I deal with stuff like this all the time, mostly alone before you came here to stay with me. I know it makes you feel better to make me feel better, and I really love that about you."

Garth gave a light kiss to the finger against his lips. Before Dick withdrew his hand, he caressed Garth's chin with his thumb.

Dick finished off his glass of wine and stood up, untying the drawstring of his already very loose pants. A slight nudge with his hands and they were around his ankles. He turned his back, and behind, to Garth's face, exposing the full length of the disputed injury. It was far less impressive, Dick thought, than the Technicolor contusions on his leg. The deep scrape ran from just below his right shoulder blade down his back to just below his ass cheek. Upon his earlier private inspection of it, experience told Dick that although it was ugly right now, it didn't warrant stitches, nor would it result in a significant scar.

Turning slightly toward his lover, Dick reached out and touched Garth's face again. "Have your healing way with me," he smiled warmly.

"The food..." Garth began.

Shrugging his shoulders, Dick turned to face his still seated lover, bringing both hands to cup Garth's face. "Eh, Chinese food always tastes better cold, anyway. We'll get back to it in a bit."

Dick stepped out of the trousers pooled around his feet, and carefully straddled Garth's lap, kneeling on the couch. He gave his love a gentle push to lean back. Dick took Garth's hand and squeezed a liberal smear of ointment onto his middle finger. He then scooted closer, bringing their groins together, and leaned forward to rest his head on Garth's shoulder.

"How's this for cooperation and access?" Dick asked, laying a light kiss on the Atlantean's quickening jugular.

"Very accommodating — and inventive." Garth began to gently trace the remaining, untreated length of Dick's deep scrape, taking his time in carefully massaging the soothing ointment into Dick's ass cheek.

"Mmm. That part feels p'tic'larly good," Dick purred into Garth's neck. Garth's warm hands slid around to cup his lapful of relaxing vigilante, kneading flesh, as well as pressing his lover's thickening sex against his own. Dick's arms went around Garth's neck and he began to thrust gently, craving more contact and pressure. He shifted to adjust the position of his hardening cock against Garth's when a jolt of pain shot through his right leg. An immediate hiss escaped his lips, and he bit them to keep in any other evidence of just how much his leg hurt.

"Sorry. I'm okay. Really." Through tightly clenched teeth, Dick attempted to reassure his lover.

"Oh, I don't think so," Garth growled softly. Before Dick could make another move, Garth leaned forward and stood, carefully shifting Dick over his shoulder and gripping him by his good leg to steady him. "Time for tired Nightwings to go to bed now," he scolded.

They reached the bedroom and Garth gingerly deposited his weary, wounded lover onto the bed. Dick winced again, but not from any injuries. The room was spotless — definitely not how he had left it that morning. His face reddened. Dick admitted sheepishly, "I really would have cleaned up if I'd known you were coming back sooner."

"Of course," Garth wryly agreed, pulling the bedspread down. "Get in."

Dick contritely complied. "I did wash the sheets."

"Let us thank Pallais for that!"

Garth vanished into the bathroom, then emerged with a bottle of baby oil in his hands.

Dick propped himself up on his elbows. "Hey, I've got some of that liniment Alfred makes for us—"

"I prefer this," said Garth, holding up the baby oil and flicking the lid open with his thumb. "Alfred's preparation may be beneficial to you and Batman, but it stings my hands when they begin to heat up. Baby oil seems to be the mildest thing for my skin."

Putting the oil down on the bedside table, Garth slid out of the silk pajama bottoms. Climbing onto the bed, he straddled Dick's lower legs, feeling Dick shiver slightly at the contact.

Garth bent to softly kiss Dick's, then repeated the kisses to his throat and finally, his mouth. "Lie back now, love, and relax," he coaxed.

It had been a long time since Dick had been presented with the opportunity for such tender ministrations. With their injuries, Alfred had always been clinically efficient while Bruce, when tasked with his ward's therapy, was brusquely concise. Kory's massages had always gotten the two of them easily sidetracked... and then Dick had been alone for the most part. But Garth....

From the moment Garth's warm, oiled hands touched Dick's skin, it was as if the same life-giving magic he had breathed into Dick's mouth was now flowing into Dick's muscles. Try as he might, he could not come up with any words to express the ecstasy his lover's healing touch brought to him. Neck, shoulders, arms — so carefully did Garth's hands move down Dick's chest and abdomen. Even more carefully did they heat and sweep the bruise at his hip and thigh, encouraging the contused blood to dissipate.

Dick's only utterances were low moans of pleasure. Down his muscular legs went the kneading heat from Garth's hands, forcing blood to flow (as if it needed to flow more below Dick's waist), to smooth the knotted spring-tight engines that served as the acrobat's propulsion.

Endorphins flooded Dick's blood, dulling the pain and mixing with the single glass of wine he'd drunk. The combined effect lulled the battered hero into a state of profound relaxation. Profound turned to sublime when Garth's healing hands reached Dick's turgid cock and began to stroke it firmly. One oiled hand pumped while the other cupped his tightening balls gently, rolling them with the same steady rhythm. Dick's mouth opened and he gasped unevenly as he soared toward orgasm. At the moment Dick's balls drew up to jet his release, Garth dove upon him, taking his cock deep into the wet heat of his mouth. With a shudder and a wordless groan, Dick came, and Garth drank the successive outpourings of his lover's ecstasy.

Garth slid up to spoon behind Dick, pulling the covers over them. Before the sleep of exhaustion and satiation overtook Blüdhaven's hero, he cradled Garth's arm in his, and kissed his life-giving lover's fingers, one by one.

When Garth was satisfied that his lover was sleeping soundly, he carefully got out of bed. He turned the light out and left the room, pulling the door closed behind him. Naked, Garth padded out to the living room to close up the containers of food they had abandoned. Sticking one of the spring rolls into his mouth, Garth held it between his teeth, grinning at the memory of Dick's earlier play with the food. He picked up the containers and carried them to the kitchen.

In the low light from over the stove, Garth stowed away the food and washed his spring roll down with a long draught of water. He washed his hands and splashed his face at the sink. Rubbing the excess water into his skin, Garth turned to leave the kitchen when he heard it begin — the anguished moans of the dreams that often disturbed his companion's rare moments of sleep.

Entering the darkened bedroom, Garth could see that Dick had kicked the bedcovers off with his thrashing. Garth quickly pulled them back onto the bed and climbed in beside his love. Dick was freezing cold and shivering; his skin was raised in chill bumps.

Before Garth could take him into his arms to warm him, Dick cried out and doubled over, almost sitting upright. He gasped convulsively and began to cough. Dick came to consciousness as Garth wrapped the quilted bedspread around him and pulled him close.

"You're home, love... here, safe with me. Are you awake? Relax and breathe — I have you." Garth crooned steady reassurances to bring Dick to comfortable awareness. Dick stiffened at first, then relaxed into the Atlantean's arms.

"Oh... oh, god, it was so cold. God, it was so cold... I couldn't... I couldn't... I was... everything just... it was so sad...." Dick's voice trailed off.

Garth lay back, pulling Dick with him, still holding him securely. Dick reached across Garth's chest, molding himself to his lover's body. They lay like that for only seconds before Dick, still restless, pulled himself over Garth. He buried his fingers in the Atlantean's ebony curls, and plundered Garth's mouth. Kissing open-mouthed and hard, it was almost as if Dick were searching for the spell that had pulled him out of death's iron grip only hours before.

Garth's hands, heated and soothing, moved carefully and surely over Dick's body, warming and stimulating him. Dick broke the kiss, breathing heavily and grinding his hips into Garth's, his cock swelling with the friction. Dick pulled back only slightly, then dropped his head to bring his lips to Garth's ear.

"I need you... I need you to hold me... be inside me...."

Garth brought his hands up to cup Dick's face between them. "Richard, you need sleep, you're exhausted; that's why the dreams—"

"This isn't exhausted," Dick whispered hoarsely, pulling one of Garth's hands down to feel his hardening sex. He moved his hand to between Garth's legs, gripping the cock, feeling it pulse in his hand. Hooking his other arm behind Garth's neck, Dick pulled himself even closer, pressing his face next to Garth's. "I was so alone, Garth. Alone and cold, and leaving you...." With his lips against Garth's cheek, Dick whispered brokenly, "...please...."

Garth rolled them to their sides and held Dick closely, kissing his cheeks, then his mouth. Pulling back, he touched his forehead to Dick's. "Never alone, Richard, never alone while I breathe water or air." Garth's mouth reclaimed Dick's for another lingering kiss. His fingers danced along Dick's skin.

To Dick, his lover's warm touch was soothing as well as stimulating. But he wanted more contact. "Now..." he implored.

Garth positioned them to cause the least discomfort to Dick's injured leg. He reached over and grabbed the bottle of baby oil, opening it and pouring the oil into his hand. Dropping the bottle back onto the bedside table, Garth moved his slickened hand between them, pressing his fingers into Dick's body.

"Ohh," Dick gasped and moved back onto Garth's hand, the beautiful instrument of magic and power. A wave of disappointment washed over Dick as the hand left his body, but in an instant the fingers were replaced with Garth's thick cock. Dick responded with a low moan of pleasure and need.

In two easy thrusts Garth filled his lover. Wrapping his arms around Dick, he held him close, tight, like a second skin. Garth left himself with barely enough room to move, but he knew what Dick needed and wanted. Dick's muscles retracted, pulling Garth farther inside him as Garth gave the short thrusts that raked across the nerve-clustered gland, sending electric pleasure-pulses throughout Dick's body.

Dick's head fell back against Garth's shoulder, eyes closed, mouth open, and breath ragged. Garth dropped one hand to grip Dick's cock and pull it with hard, measured tugs. Dick groaned with every thrust, every pull. Garth turned his head to bring his mouth to Dick's neck, sucking the tender skin into his mouth, tasting the salt, and knowing Dick would have one more bruise for a few days.

"M-more..." Dick gasped.

Garth rolled forward, resting his weight on one forearm as he pulled Dick's cock with the other. Dick wrapped his arms around Garth's supporting arm, bracing himself for his lover's harder thrusts. He gave in to the intensity of the cock that filled him, over and over. Pounding hard, their skin slapping together now, Garth fucked Dick with all the might he knew his lover could take. The heat and the tight constriction left the Garth almost mindless with pleasure. When Dick's muscles spasmed and his cock gushed its hot liquid tribute into Garth's hand, the Atlantean came hard, pumping his seed into his lover's body, and growling his name.

Garth collapsed back into the pillows, never breaking contact with Dick, pulling him as closely as he could. For several minutes they lay spooning and panting, then slowly returned to regular breathing.

Garth kissed the back of Dick's neck, and Dick turned, his mouth searching for its mate. For a long time they kissed like that, twining tongues gently, touching softly. Dick pulled back from the kiss, his head falling heavily back into the pillows. Garth smiled, and smoothed the hair away from Dick's forehead before gathering him back into their embrace.

"How do you feel?" Garth asked, his voice crooning low tones into Dick's ear.

Dick yawned, and sighed deeply, a relaxed smile reappearing on his face. "Alive. Loved."

Seconds later, only the regular sound of Dick's breathing issued from his mouth.

"And I love you." Garth followed Dick into quiet, healing slumber.


	8. Sea and Sky: Rough Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by MEL. Dick has some tension to work out. NC-17.

He took him on the beach, among the pounding surf and with gulls screaming overhead. It was an impulsive move and one Garth never thought of resisting.  
They were alone, walking the shore, not talking about anything. But Garth knew something was bothering Dick. He could tell from the set of Dick's shoulders, the shadow in his eyes. It had been Dick's idea to get out of the Haven for a little while. They had driven down the coast, the sun dipping beneath the western horizon. At sunset, Dick had turned off the main road and parked them along this stretch of lonely beach.

For a moment they'd sat in the car. Dick's hands were tight on the steering wheel, the muscles in his arms tense. Concerned, Garth had reached out, laid his hand on Dick's arm.

"What's wrong?"

Dick had said nothing. Just looked over at Garth, with something dark and hot in his eyes. Garth had felt a little shiver go through him. Fear or passion, he wasn't sure which.

Then Dick had leaned across and kissed him. The move caught Garth by surprise. So did the passion behind that kiss. He opened his mouth and Dick took advantage of the situation, his tongue darting hot and fierce against Garth's own.

As quickly as the kiss had come, it ended. Dick moved away and Garth was left sitting there, literally gasping for breath. Dick looked at him, his eyes still burning with some undefinable passion, then looked away.

"Let's walk along the beach."

He climbed out of the car without waiting for Garth to answer. Garth touched his mouth, and drew his hand back surprised to find a drop of gleaming scarlet on his fingertip. Dick had bitten him, and Garth hadn't even felt it.

Climbing out of the car, Garth caught up with Dick on the beach. They fell into step as the sunlight faded and the wind began to get chill. Every few moments, Garth would glance at Dick, but his lover never looked back and Garth said nothing. Overhead, the gulls screeched and circled.

Dick took his hand, his grip firm and hot. They stopped walking. Garth looked at Dick, a silent question, and felt Dick's grip on his hand tighten.

Slowly, Dick took a deep breath and exhaled. His grip on Garth's hand did not ease. He looked into Garth's eyes. Garth stepped close to Dick, took his other hand, pulled him into an embrace.

"What can I do to help?

In his arms, Dick trembled. Garth ran a hand through hair dark as midnight, soft as silk. His fingers stroked the back of Dick's neck. He whispered into Dick's ear.

"I'll do anything."

A low moan escaped from Dick, and suddenly he was pressing against Garth, clawing at his neck and back. He pulled Garth down onto the clammy beach. The wet sand chilled Garth's knees through his jeans. Dick's mouth was a hot counterpoint against Garth's throat and neck, as his hands shoved down Garth's pants. His fingers found Garth's cock, wrapped around it, squeezed and kneaded it roughly into slick hardness. Shuddering, Garth pressed himself against Dick, even as his lover bent his head and found Garth's nipple, biting it through cotton cloth.

Gasping, Garth reached between them and fumbled with Dick's jeans. His hands were batted aside, his mouth attacked by his lover with bruising kisses. Dick's hands gripped his shirt and tugged at it. Garth's eyes opened in surprise at the sound of cloth tearing and the kiss of the chill wind against his belly and chest.

Dick threw the ruined shirt aside, planted one hand on Garth's chest and the other around his cock. He pushed. Garth fell back and Dick began to jerk his cock with ruthless passion. Dick brought him close, oh so close to that moment of release, then stopped and set him free. His hands descended on Garth's hips, flipping him over onto his stomach like he was a rag doll.

Gasping, Garth glanced over his shoulder, saw Dick unbuttoning his own jeans, shoving them down. His cock emerged into the twilight, wet and sticky. As Garth watched, the piss-slit fluttered and a bead of precum emerged from within the velveteen flesh. It began to slide down the shaft toward the patch of damp, matted pubic hair. Garth watched it, entranced.

A stinging blow descended on his buttocks, prompting a startled cry from the Atlantean prince. Dick drew his hand back, his eyes on Garth's face, pausing for just a moment. Garth nodded and Dick slapped his ass again. The blows descended quickly, warming up chilly flesh, sensitizing it to the cool twilight air.

And then a cock was pressed against Garth's ass. A naked cock. No rubbers. No lube. A cock slick with precum.

Garth was breathing faster now, excited. He felt the cockhead nestling against his asshole, slick and hot. Garth's own cock was hard, poking at his stomach.

Behind him, Dick hawked up a wad of phlegm. Garth looked back and saw Dick fisting his cock, getting it slick and harder than before. Then Dick pressed it against Garth's ass. Garth turned away, trying to relax his muscles.

Dick shoved into him and Garth shouted, more in surprise than pain. His muscles fluttered wildly, and he clawed at the sand, gasping. A stinging slap across his ass brought a fresh gasp from Garth, and then Dick was moving inside him.

Garth bit his lip, but could not suppress a groan of pleasure from escaping him. To have his lover take him like this! Garth had fantasized about this, but never thought it would happen! He could feel Dick inside him, hot and long, stabbing into his guts. Flesh was so different from latex!

He was moaning now, unable to suppress the sounds of his joy. Dick was slamming into him, pistoning his hips back and forth with none of his usual slow self-control. He was focusing completely on his own pleasure, gripping Garth's hips, pulling him back and up into the fuck.

Shuddering, Garth spread his legs and lifted his ass up, trying to give Dick a better angle. Dick froze and methodically nudged Garth's legs closer together.

"I want you tighter," was all he said before renewing his assault on Garth's ass.

Garth said nothing, ignored the crick in his lower back, just moaned into the wet sand, begging Dick to fuck him harder and rougher. Dick ignored him, rewarding him for his louder outbursts with stinging slaps across his ass and lower back.

Abruptly, Dick reached around Garth and seized the Atlantean's cock. He squeezed the shaft, stroking it in time with his thrusts.

It was too much for Garth. He erupted all over Dick's fist, his body trembling from the force of his orgasm. He cried out and pressed his forehead against the sand, as Dick's hands dropped to cup his shivering testicles.

Behind him, Dick pulled his own cock out of Garth's asshole, and turned his heaving lover over, onto his back again. He fell upon Garth, kissing his face and biting his neck. His hard cock brushed against Garth's flaccid organ. Once. Twice. Shivering, Dick came with his teeth clamped down tight on one of Garth's nipples.

Afterwards, they lay there in the growing darkness for a little while. Garth watched the stars twinkle overhead, one hand absently stroking Dick's hair. Dick snuggled in his arms, taking slow, deep breaths. After a little while he lifted his head.

"Did I hurt you?"

Garth glanced down at him, smiling, his fingers playing in Dick's hair. "Of course not. You could never hurt me. Are you feeling better?"

Dick nodded and lay his cheek against Garth's chest. "Yes. I had a bad day at work."

Garth stroked his back. "I'm sorry."

"Thanks for . . . this," Dick said hesitantly.

Garth's arms came around him, warm and loving. He smiled up at the stars. "Anytime."


	9. Sea and Sky: Well Met by Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Bevis. A beautiful picture by moonlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Archive: If you ask  
> Warning: Rated 15 (sorry, not sure of the U.S. equivalent rating) m/m slash implied but nothing explicit.  
> Disclaimer: These characters don’t belong to me. No permission was given to use them. Naughty I.
> 
> Nightwing and Tempest asleep together. Inspired by rith’s Sea & Sky stories, the Sade song quoted at the start and finish, and a drawing I’ve done for rith (it’ll be on it’s way to you soon, rith. Promise)

Quietly while you were sleeping   
The moon and I were talking  
I asked that she’d always keep  
You protected  
She promised you her light  
That you so gracefully carry

(Sade, The Sweetest Gift)

The bright moonlight breaks the night clouds and floods in through the apartment window illuminating two figures lying as one on the large bed. Arms wrapped about each other, breathing in unison, skin so close it could belong to the same person.

Dick and Garth sleeping in the bed they share. Naked. A warm summer breeze blows through the partially opening window, caressing their skin. The moonlight casts deeps shadows of midnight blue on their bodies and highlights their flesh with an opal glow. Garth’s darker skin contrasts against his lover’s paler body, but the two colours are compliments to each other. One without the other would be beautiful, but together there is no more pleasing combination. Both with hair as dark as a raven’s wing, but again different. Tight curls and loose waving locks. In the light it seems to shine with an inner light, like a halo hidden by black light. Two angels slumbering together.

Their muscles are as relaxed as they can be. Bodies that are usually full of tension. The impulse to fly, the impulse to fight or to defend. Now they rest. All tension gone for this one moment in time. Here they have nothing to fear from others. No reason to be alert or wary. Here they only have each other and that is enough.

The light falls across the young Atlantean’s back. The curve of his spine is like a soft breaking wave. The muscles of his shoulders shine in the light, a fine sweat fracturing the light and sending it back into the night. His buttocks round and smooth, perfectly muscled, perfect in every way. His head rests on the shoulder of his lover; Dick’s arm wrapped protectively round him, caressing his neck, but not holding him tight. It is the gentle touch of two lovers who know that they have nothing to fear from each other.

Garth’s head rises and falls slowly with the breathing of his lover. His hand brushes Dick’s cheek, feeling the softness of the skin. Unconsciously registering every inch of a jaw line that he already knows by heart. A face that he has kissed and touched and loved many times over now. The face of his partner. His lover. His missing half.

The morning will come all to soon and they will arise. But for the moment they sleep. Sharing dreams, sharing the time that they have together. Oblivious to everything in the world but their love for one another. All that exists for them is the other. The sheets on the bed, the pillows, even the breeze that touches them and the moonlight that licks against them could disappear and they wouldn’t notice. As long as they are in other’s arms then what could possibly be wrong in the world? How could they ever worry, or fear? In their eyes the sight of the other is enough to keep them going from day to day. And now, in this night time slumber, they do not even need to see each other. Just the touch of one another is enough. The warmth of skin against skin. The smell of sweat and the results of earlier lovemaking. The sound of their breath. These are the things that they keep with them. The little things that others might forget. The way the blood pulsing in their veins can be felt just below the surface of the skin. The way their gentle breathing causes shifts in their muscles as they lie against each other. These are the things that matter. The sweetest gift that either could ever give to the other is themselves.

The bright moonlight breaks the night clouds and floods in through the apartment window illuminating two figures lying as one on the large bed. Arms wrapped about each other, breathing in unison, skin so close it could belong to the same person.

Two angels slumbering together.

You bring your light and shine   
Like morning  
And as you so gracefully give  
Her light as long as you live  
I will always remember   
This moment

(Sade, The Sweetest Gift)


	10. Sea and Sky: Peeping Tom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Bevis. Spying brings its own reward. NC-17.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so this is a little PWP that's been knocking round my head for ages and I keep meaning to write but not actually getting round to doing. But I'm bored at work today so thought I'd finally get round to doing it.  
> It's a little Sea and Sky story. Not sure where it would fit in terms of continuity though. Garth and Dick are living together but I don't think there's anything else to tie it to any particular events.
> 
> Oh, one thing though, is Garth Atlantean? I put that in there and thought isn't he from Poseidonis or something and as such doesn't get refered to as Atlantean? If that's the case ignore that little blip. ;)
> 
> Disclaimer: Not my characters. More's the pity.  
> Rating: 18  
> Archive: All you have to do is ask (unless you're `rith in which case I'm using her characters so I can hardly say no to her can I)

Nightwing swung down onto the rooftop with barely a sound. Years of practice meant that he could move across the city hardly leaving a trace behind him. His muscles bunched and then relaxed as he landed in a crouching position on a flat concrete roof. He took a moment to gather himself together. On the whole it had been a quiet night, nothing to really write home about. A couple of car-jackings, a hold up at a liquor store that hardly needed his attention and a mugging that had left him tensed for a further fight that hadn't come. The night air was clear with the full moon shining brightly. For once the Haven seemed almost peaceful. Or at least peaceful by it's usual standards. He was ready to call it a night now. He wasn't on duty in the morning but he'd promised Garth that they'd spend some time together just as a couple. Going to the movies or the theatre or something. The kind of things normal people did.

Across the street he could see the lights were on in their apartment. He wasn't surprised. Garth liked to wait up for him if neither of them needed to be up early. He was probably reading or cleaning. Dick took his night vision binoculars from their case in his gloves and raised them to his eyes. Scanning the windows he stopped at the bathroom. The light was on there too and he could see movement. Chances are Garth was in the shower. If he timed it right Dick might be able to sneak into the apartment and join his lover without Garth realising he'd got home. The thought of it caused a stirring in Dick's groin and he smiled to himself.

Before he could get up though he saw the vague figure cast against the frosted glass of the bathroom window move out of the room and into the living room. The windows and shades were open so Dick had a clear view of the room. Garth stepped out of the bathroom and moved across to the open window, stepping onto the small balcony outside. He was naked and still glistening wet from the shower. He never bothered to dry himself straight away after showering. He'd told Dick he liked the feeling of the moisture drying on his skin. That change from wet and slippery to dry and smooth. The way he'd explained it had made the very act of drying seem incredibly erotic. But then again to Dick almost everything Garth did was erotic. Flossing his teeth was erotic. Hell, even breathing was erotic. But only the way Garth did it.

Garth stood on the balcony and stretched his arms upwards. Dick smiled as he watched the muscles of Garth's chest and stomach stretch and flex. Little drops of water ran down his body, shining in the moonlight. Dick studied the line of Garth's pectorals, his stomach and his thighs. The dark patches of hair under his arms, even darker now when they were wet. And the matching patch of jet black, damp curls at his crotch. They framed beautifully the thick cock that Dick had grown to love so much. Even now it looked larger than it should. Maybe the heat from the shower had caused it to fill out somewhat but the cold night air didn't seem to be having any effect on it. Quite the opposite in fact. As Dick watched he could see Garth's penis twitch slightly and start to grow. Garth ran his hand down his chest, stopping briefly to play with one of his nipples, before moving on down to his crotch.

Gently Garth began stroking himself, gently pulling on his hardening erection, play with his balls. Dick found that almost subconsciously he'd started to do the same. His free hand was resting on his own crotch, gently massaging the flesh underneath. He found that he was almost transfixed where he was, crouched on a roof feeling his growing erection and watching his lover across the way doing the same. The whole thing was a huge turn on, knowing that he was playing the Peeping Tom even if it was his lover that he was spying on. The whole thing was somewhat sordid but incredibly hot at the same time.

On the balcony Garth was now standing with one hand wrapped around his fully-grown erection, the other playing with his chest. His eyes were shut and his head bent slightly forward, the wet curls on his head plastered flat against his forehead. Ever so slowly he started to move his hand up and down, slowly masturbating himself, his hand slipping easily against the wet flesh gripped firmly. Dick slipped his hand into the top of his leggings and pulled out his own erection. Pre-cum was already seeping from it and he smeared it across the head with his gloved thumb. He shivered slightly at the touch of the cool air on his erection but that only served to add to the thrill of the whole thing. He gripped himself tightly and began to move his fist in time with his lover.

Across the way Garth's strokes began to pick up pace. His other hand was now behind him playing with his taught buttocks. Garth shifted slightly so now he was side on to Dick enabling him to see that the Atlantean's slick finger was gently massaging his arse, slipping in and out in time with the strokes of his hand on his cock. A second finger, and then a third joined the first inside Garth and he began pumping his cock hard. In turn Dick did the same, feeling the climax building within himself, feeling the shift of his testicles as they drew up towards his body. His eyes were fixed on his lover and he let out a whimper as he saw Garth climax. Garth shuddered visibly as he shot streams of glistening white cum over the side of the balcony, falling away down to the street below. At the same time Dick let out a gasp as he came himself, his cum shining brightly against the dark material of his gloved hand.

Dick dropped the binoculars by his side and fell back on the roof, gasping as he tried to catch his breath. His still hard cock the only part of his body apart from his head exposed to the air. Looking up in the night sky, seeing the brightness of the moon above him, he felt exhilarated and exhausted at the same time. The whole thing had set him up for what he hoped would be a pretty interesting evening.

He wasn't sure how long he'd lain there, maybe only a few seconds, maybe a minute or two, when his earpiece buzzed. Just what he needed. A call from Oracle or Bruce demanding they needed his help just when he wanted some time just to spend with his lover. However the voice that came over the air wasn't one of the Bat-clan.

"Hey there Robbie" said Garth. Dick could detect a distinct amused tone in the way he spoke.

"Garth?"

"Who else lover boy?"

"Is everything Ok?... uh... I'm almost home."

Garth sniggered. "Yeah, I know that," he said, "and I know what you've been up to."

Dick felt his face flush. He sat up and looked over the low parapet that ran all around the roof he was lying on. Still standing on the balcony, still naked, was Garth. In his hand he held the small comm badge that he wore inside the collar of his costume. He waved as he saw Nightwing looking at him.

"What a naughty little peeping Tom you are," said Garth, his face split by a grin, "Did you enjoy the show?"

Dick was lost for words he didn't quite know what to say.

"You... you knew I was watching you?"

"Well of course I did," laughed Garth, "it's the whole enhanced eyesight thing. I could see you through the bathroom window the moment you got here. Just because you're eyes are too weak to see through frosted glass doesn't mean mine are. And I thought you might like... a little pre-dinner apertiser."

Dick grinned back.

"Pre-dinner?" he said, "what's for dinner then?"

Garth leaned back against the wall of the apartment and gently stroked his stomach, fingers brushing the curls of pubic hair above his cock.

"Well," said Garth, "that all depends on how hungry you are."

Dick laughed quietly and stood up, throwing a line perfectly and swinging down to the balcony of their apartment. He landed and pulled Garth into his arms, kissing him long and hard.

"Oh I'm starving", he said feeling the warmth of Garth's naked flesh even through his kevlar suit, "and I know what I want for dinner, supper and desert."

They kissed again, Garth wrapping his muscular legs around Dick's body, their cocks rising up hard and ready again.

Dick had wanted to spend the day with his lover. Go to the movies or the theatre or something. Do things that ordinary couples do. Instead they were going to do what only they could do. Make love all night and all day, and still be ready for more.


	11. Sea and Sky: Tofu and Good Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Gabriel Orion. I needled Gabriel until he wrote this for me. Guest starring Connor "Green Arrow" Hawke!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Nightwing/Tempest  
> Rating: PG-13
> 
> Archive: If you want to, but ask me first.
> 
> Thanks: Kerithwyn, because she not only introduced me to Tempest(Garth), but *kept* me interested in the character, demanded I try writing him, and gave me beta-comments when I finally did. Dannell, because the NW/T relationship in this fic was intended to be consistent with the one established in Dannell's and Ker's 'Sea and Sky' stories.
> 
> Disclaimer: Everybody contained herein belongs to DC, this is not a cash venture, suing me would only demonstrate the amount of time on your hands, and that would be embarrassing, no?
> 
> Notes: Don't come after me for my portrayal of the 'Mr. Lee' character. I changed his name, but that guy really does exist.
> 
> ~*~

"Is this bean curd?" asked Garth.

"Is good ow-fu," agreed Mr. Lee. "You like?" Garth looked at the suspicious tan chunk between his chopsticks and bit into it politely. Tofu. Thank the-

"So how long are you going to be in town?" asked Connor. Mr. Lee smiled at Garth approvingly and moved off through the crowded tables, tucking his notepad into the pocket of his red apron.

"As long as it takes to find McLagen," Dick shrugged. "He's been seen in town, but we shouldn't discuss the details here."

"Ah." -Connor understood. He turned to say something to Garth, then paused and looked at Garth's plate. "I thought you said you were vegetarian..." Garth froze.

"I... *am.*" Connor glanced in the direction of the kitchen, and sighed.

"That is not." Connor pointed to one of the tan chunks. "I'm really sorry, Garth. It's tofu with shrimp in the middle."

Garth blanched.

"Are you all right?" asked Dick. Garth squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them with his fingers, uncomfortably.

"I will be... later."

"I know how it is." said Connor. "Do you want some of mine?"

"Um... no thank you, I think I'm done here." said Garth. Connor eyed him sympathetically, and signaled for the check.

By the time they made it back to Connor's flat, Garth's stomach felt like a sea-cucumber was using it for a dance studio. He made it to the bathroom, rid himself of the offending seafood, and emerged a few minutes later looking slightly less ill. Connor made green tea and took it into the living room.

Connor's living room, like Connor himself, had two natural states. The one they'd seen earlier was conventional. Couch, chair, coffee table, light soaking in through the window. Now it was shadow and warmth, an oasis of cushions from the chair and two long futons that had made up the back and seat of the couch, now arranged on the floor and contained within the light of four candles. Garth took a seat on one of the futons, and Dick joined him. Connor chose the cushion from the chair, removed his shoes, and folded his legs into a half-lotus position. The tea was drunk in silence, and the bitter-green steam seeped into the other scents of the room like the warmth of the cups into their fingers.

"I should go." Connor said, finally. He looked at the window and the lights of San Francisco beyond, then back to his guests. Dick nodded. Patrol.

"Thank you for the tea," said Garth. Connor acknowledged them with a smile, and went into the other room to change. Five minutes later he was out the window, bow in hand.

Garth stretched out full length on the futon and folded his hands over his chest. The candles cast and re-cast themselves on the shadows of the ceiling, first flickering, then glowing back to steady pools. On the edge of the dark, four lines of heat wavered up into invisibility from the tips of the candle flames.

"How do you feel?" asked Dick, quietly. Garth's sleepy purple eyes met his shaded blue ones.

"Better."

"Good- -I wanted to try something new. Do you mind?"

"We are in Connor's home," Garth pointed out. Dick grinned.

"I know. It's nothing like that... I think you'll like it, though."

"In that case, do as you please." smiled Garth. Dick knelt beside Garth on the futon and cracked his knuckles theatrically. Garth chuckled at this, then closed his eyes. Dick placed both hands over Garth's stomach and paused, just watching the Atlantean's face. Dick didn't always understand Garth's trust, but he'd adopted being worthy of it as a lifelong goal.

It began with a series of symmetrical strokes. Circles that followed each other, smoothing over the muscles of Garth's stomach in a pattern that was sensual enough to melt his insides, without being sexual enough to tense them up again. Garth focused on the sensation completely, and his mouth fell open just a little. It felt like rain.

Dick's hands changed direction, and swept all of the nerve endings first one way, then the opposite. He traced diagonals, then changed the pattern again, and swept his hands apart over and over, as if he was slowly digging a hole in sand. Garth was losing track of whether Dick was drawing ripples in his chi or actually touching him, but it felt wonderful. By the time Dick's hands slid away for the last time, Garth was nearly asleep.

"HmmmMMmmmm..." he sighed.

"You're welcome," whispered Dick.

"You just did Tai-Chi on my stomsch..." mumbled Garth.

"Did it work?"

"MMmmmHMmmmm."

Dick reached across the floor and pulled the other futon up against the edge of the first one, then lay down on his side next to Garth, with one arm over Garth's chest.

Time passed, neither of them knew how much, and one of the candles went out. Garth's eyes started to feel gritty. He slipped out from under Dick's out flung arm carefully and stood up to undress. Dick's fingers curled against the warm cloth cover of the futon searchingly.

".....?......" he queried, eyes still closed.

"I'm going to take a shower." Garth told him. "I'll be right back." Dick's hand relaxed, and he nodded once. Garth took one of the candles with him into the bathroom, rather than using the light switch.

Water, cascading and filling the air enclosed by the shower curtain with hot fog. Garth breathed in deeply, and felt the membranes in his chest re-open as they absorbed the moisture. He turned his face up toward the spray, and the streams found every angle and crevice of his features, and trickled into his ears, and over his shoulders, and down his back. The droplets beaded on the shower curtain sparkled like tiny streetlights. Leaving the shower, Garth patted himself down lightly with a towel, then got a blanket from the closet just outside the bathroom on his way back to the living room.

Dick was still mostly asleep. Garth blew out all but one of the candles, then shook out the blanket and settled it over the futons, Dick included. Garth crawled underneath the blanket himself, and saw that Dick's eyes were open.

He reached out and cupped angle of Dick's jaw in his hand. It felt smooth and soft and dry under his damp fingers. Dick turned his head and kissed the base of Garth's palm.

"See you tomorrow," he whispered.

"Always," murmured Garth in return, and closed his eyes.

~*~

end note: The mis-spelling in the 'Tai-Chi' line was intentional. That's just how Garth pronounced it, under the circumstances.


	12. Sea and Sky: A Good Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Casey. Written for a solo challenge. NC-17.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to the Nightwing Masturbation Challenge made by nightwing22a. Thanks, 'Rith, for letting me play in your sandbox for a while!

This started out to be a good day.

It was one of those perfect days, with singing birds, bright sunlight, bagels for breakfast and a naked Atlantean in my kitchen. Perfect, that is, until my love decided he wanted onion and vegetable spread on his bagel which, of course, we didn't have. So rather than make do with what we have, he just had to go to the market to get some.

Now normally, I really wouldn't be this upset about it. I mean, the guy's a grown man, who happens to be an Atlantean diplomat to boot. But considering the amount of times we've been, um, 'interrupted' lately, I was really hoping today would be different. But as I hop up off the floor and feel the hardness between my legs shifting, I realize that Garth has been gone a long time. Too long.

The pushups didn't do any good. Neither did the sit-ups. And as I kick the corner of the workout mat up with my toes, I realize that laying on the floor half-naked was probably not the best way to take my mind off him.

I watch the tiny droplets of sweat drip from my head and hit the plastic as I tie up the mat, the tiny pools of water making me think of my Atlantean lover even more.

Walking through the bedroom, our bedroom, I remember last night and the passion that we shared. Absently, I rub the dark red mark on my belly and grin. I should've known he was part 'Puckerfish'!

The mat tucked away in the closet, I close the door only to stare blankly at my own reflection in the full-length mirror. Not bad. Could use a little more work on the delts, but not bad.

Slowly, I run my right hand to the back of my neck, working out the soreness as I close my eyes and enjoy the gentle pressure.

Damn it, Garth, where are you?

My hand slides lazily down my shoulder to my chest, sliding back and forth across the hard, smooth skin. I can feel my breathing become heavier as my fingertips glide gently, teasingly, across hardening nipples. I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly parched.

Purple eyes and long, slim fingers fill my thoughts as memories of hot, sweaty nights return to me. The fingers of my left hand move up my inner thigh, seemingly of its own volition, and begin tracing lazy circles around my navel, making patterns in the tiny hairs that run down my belly and beneath my sweatpants.

As a deep, satisfied moan begins in my chest, I look into the mirror through half-closed eyes. For a second, only a second, I think I should wait, wait for Garth to get home. But then the electric tingling on my bare skin and the sight of my own hands upon my body seduces me, promising that this won't take long....

I stop only long enough to literally hop out of my sweats and toss them aside before resuming the exploration of my chest and stomach. This time though, I watch as my fingers glide along the flat planes of my abs, tracing and tickling each muscle. Suddenly feeling 'naughty', I gasp as my right thumb and forefinger pinches my left nipple, rolling it between them.

Biting my lower lip, I open my legs, widening my stance, the wooden floor cool against my bare feet. My left hand slips slowly beneath the waistband of the black jockstrap I'm wearing, slithering down to cup my balls. My teeth dig slightly deeper into my lip as supple fingers gently twirl the coarse hairs.

God, I wish Garth were here....

I watch in the mirror as the motion of my hand stroking my balls causes the jock to slowly slide down my hand, exposing the tip of my cock. Raising my arm, I lick my right bicep, sliding my tongue along my arm until my thumb and index finger are in my mouth. Soaking them with my own saliva, I slowly bring them down to the tip of my member and run them around the tiny hole, making the entire head wet.

Oooh, Shhhiiii....

Practically ripping the jock off with my left hand, I grip the shaft of my cock with my right, enjoying the sight of myself standing naked and sweaty, playing with my body while I jerk myself off. Is this what Garth sees?

Completely nude now, I give in to the feelings of my hands roaming my skin. As my right hand continues to pump up and down on my cock, my left is sliding along every muscle, every curve, of my body. My shoulders, my chest, my nipples, my abs, my thighs, my balls...all of it.

My breathing is coming in short gasps now, the sight of my body and what I'm doing to it barely registering through blurry, half-closed eyes. All I know is the pleasure I'm feeling and the slow-yet-urgent building within my balls. I can feel it. The jerking motion of my hand speeds up. Soon...soon...

Suddenly, my eyes squeeze tightly closed and my entire body tenses as waves of ecstasy flow through me. Somewhere in the distance, I hear the tiny squeaking of my bare feet on the wooden floor, but I don't care. I throw my head back onto my shoulders, feeling beads of perspiration slap onto my back and ass as someone moans loudly in the background. It takes a second before I realize that it's me, but again, I don't care.

I feel drops of wetness splatter on my stomach, then on my chest, my shoulder. My entire body is spasming and I'm rocking back and forth on my heels. Tight, electric jolts shoot through my body before slowly melting into a deep tiredness. My right hand slows as my left runs through sweat-soaked hair. Lazily, I open my eyes, struggling to catch my breath. I'm exhausted. I look like Hell. I'm completely happy.

Looking down my body, I swipe at the tiny splotches of liquid, a bit surprised at the one that begins dripping down my shoulder. It's been a while since I've shot that far, especially in a standing position! I grin to myself as I notice similar splotches on the mirror in front of me. Guess I needed this more than I thought....

"You are going to clean that up, aren't you?"

I spin around to see Garth leaning against the doorframe, shirt off, jeans half undone and a grin on his face.

"Only if you clean me off first..." I smile back.

This might be a good day, after all.....


	13. Sea and Sky: Equilibrium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Anon. NC-17.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This here be PORN. And not of the heterosexual type. If this squicks you? Don't read it. If this offends you? Tough noogies and go read the First Amendment. Except if you're DC Comics.

I arrive to find him hunched over the keyboard, face too close to the monitor as he swivels his head from screen to the notes on the table next to him. Plotting, planning, trying to make sense of a mission gone wrong. No acknowledgement, no smile, no greeting even though it's impossible that he could have missed my arrival. While I understand his distraction -- Roy will be released from the hospital tomorrow or the next day, out of action for at least a week -- I am... displeased. I wanted Dick; I got Nightwing in jeans and a t-shirt. This was not what I was fantasizing about during the endless meeting with the World Health Organization. This is not the vision that buoyed my thoughts as my patience and good humor were threatened with drowning under the waves of diplomatic bureaucracy.

I place warm hands on his shoulders and squeeze and am rewarded by a sigh of pleasure and relief, a breathy rumble that vibrates through me and I press the heels of my hands in hard, just to hear that noise again. It comes out part whisper, part whimper, part moan and his head falls forward and I run my thumbs up the back of his neck and he fairly purrs and the relief has turned to something like need. But we have been here before and diplomat though I may be I have lost him at far more advanced points of our negotiations. I am not above forcing the matter, however, and tonight I am in no mood to acquiesce to Dick's need to brood over all of the elements that are out of his control. He is not the only one feeling small tonight, but I don't plan on letting that feeling consume me. Or us.

Still rubbing shoulder muscles taut with strain, I bend down to kiss the back of his neck, that spot on his spine where I can almost feel the vertebrate. A startled cry and it's all I can do to shift out of the way as his head snaps back.

"Hi," he says and looks up at me and smiles. He had no voice yesterday, spending it all out in the field the day before, and it has returned today smoky and low.

He reaches up and I bend down and I smile as I kiss him because I have won; I have gotten Dick and retired Nightwing for the evening. I can tell by the way his eyes sparkle as I close in -- Nightwing's hooded gaze, shuttered and opaque, is not there. I can tell by the way his fingertips trace the contours of my head as he pulls me closer and I gloat against his lips.

The kiss is our shorthand, our greetings expressed without words. "How was your day?" asked and answered in full, from my morning with the Malaysian ambassador who pretended not to understand my accented English to Dick's afternoon phone call with Bruce that left him too upset to eat lunch.

The fingers that combed through my hair are now at the back of my neck, keeping me close. The other hand has found my elbow, bringing me around as it pulls him toward me, swiveling on the chair until we are facing each other. Only then does he let the kiss break. I feel his breath against my lips and on my nose as he pulls back just enough to look into my eyes and let me see the fire in his.

My suit jacket was left on the back of the first chair I passed, the vest undone and the tie already loosened before I found him, and I feel slightly rakish as I watch him look me over. I am half bent over him and half standing, one arm braced on the edge of the desk and the other still in his grasp, somewhere between looming and possessed. His thumb follows some obscure pattern against the inside of my elbow and the hand on my neck slides to my face, fingertips ghosting over my tattoo almost reverently and slipping gently down my cheek. I part my lips to say something and am stopped by a finger against them.

"Shhh," he murmurs, that low voice rolling through me like a wave, and pulls me to him once again. Another kiss, another conversation, and I am prepared when he pulls away once more, kisses me sweetly, and whispers.

"Kneel."

His palm against my cheek as I comply, cool against my flushed skin, his hand sliding along my arm to hold my hand as I settle between his knees with an obedience that is anything but blind. I have followed this man for as long as I care to remember, heeded his barked commands in the field and his murmured encouragements in bed, and his power over me is complete because I surrendered it voluntarily.

He releases my hand, letting his drop to his thigh, fingers splayed against the denim. With the other he cups my chin, forcing me to look up at him. I turn my head slightly so that I can kiss his palm; it is my sign that I want this and want him, a sign unnecessary to my mind and crucial to his. That I would suddenly decide to stop or to bridle at his wishes seems unarguably cruel to me, and I catch and release the surge of my frustration at those who have done enough damage to make it a concern to him. A long heartbeat until I can sense him relax, the tension now purely sexual. I smile at him and hope it conveys my desires as well as my happiness; from the way his eyes narrow, I can see that it does. He lets his hand fall to his side, content now to wait for my next move. I can feel the intentness of his gaze as I edge forward; Dick has so many different shades of impatience and I have agreed to be painted with all of them.

Close enough now that I can feel my breath reflected back at me by unyielding denim, a material that still, in the private part of my mind that marvels at the oddity of surface worlders, intrigues me. Too heavy and uncompromising to be of interest to Atlanteans, too rough to be comfortable the first few times I had worn it on land, I had dismissed it as just another peculiarity until I saw Dick take down an over--playful Changeling wearing nothing but a pair of Levis. Now, despite the fact that it is only Dick's inherent gracefulness that allows the act of removing the jeans of a seated man to be anything but awkward and clumsy, I am almost appreciative.

But we are not at that stage yet. My hands are down at his bare feet and ankles, fingertips tracing over skin in a pattern that could be a spell and would be enough to draw Dick's attention away from anything else if I weren't also brushing the insides of his thighs, tracing the seams with the tip of my nose with just enough pressure that the not-quite-involuntary wiggling of his toes ceases. With my eyes so close to his hands I can see the conscious will he's exerting to keep them where they are, splayed and digging in just enough that I know that he'd really rather move them, use them to guide me to where he'd really like my attention to be. But he won't, not yet, partly because he trusts me to know what he needs (and when to deny it) and partly because self-control has been bred into his bones and the challenge to both of us is to make him forget it.

Bludhaven is not a quiet city and Dick does not live on a quiet block. But as I bring my hands up his calves with a just-firm-enough touch and I leave his thighs for their apex, there is no other noise in this world but for his breathing and mine. Dick is inhaling through his mouth and exhaling through his nose in what would sound like deeply measured breaths to anyone with normal hearing. But I hear the tiny hitches and look up at him, chin grazing against his groin, to let him see my smile and know that I know. Skin flushed, lips slightly parted, jaw set, eyes narrowing as he fights his natural inclination to make so much noise. I love to hear him; Dick is a riotous cacophony of cries, whimpers, and moans in his pleasure, never silent and never shy about sharing what he's feeling and what he wants me to feel. Sometimes I let the stream of words wash over me, more often I soak them in; it had never dawned on me how arousing it could be to listen to these not-quite-thoughts. And yet the times like these, when he fights his own inclinations, I don't know where the self-imposed silences come from and I have not yet summoned the will to ask; there is undoubtedly a reason for it and I am always afraid to destroy the mood by asking what it is.

I move my chin again, nuzzling while keeping my nose from the zipper, feeling the burn of my skin on denim and ruing that the thickness of the material prevents Dick from feeling any friction, only contact. But for now that is enough and Dick spreads his legs slightly farther apart and allows himself one guttural grunt as I find an angle where I can use teeth to rake lightly over the surface.

My hands are warm and sensitized from running over his jeans and I slide them down to his ankles so that I can soothe them against bare skin, but I can only ruck his jeans up so far and must settle for small circles and patterns that seem to do nothing more than tease us both. I can feel my own arousal course through me, slowly and inexorably, exactly like a rising tide, banked only by patience and my concentration on my chosen task.

I press a kiss to his groin and can feel his heat under my lips. Looking up, I watch his head snap up on contact, eyes suddenly alert. I pull back a little to reach for the button of his jeans. Without a word, he pushes my hands away, undoing button and zipper himself before grabbing the chair's armrest and raising himself slightly. It is a deceptively smooth maneuver considering the chair's wheels and the bare floor, but he holds himself still and steady as I raise myself off of my haunches to peel away both pants and underwear, an act that is more careful than seductive. When they are near enough to his knees that he can sit again, he does and I let them go, using a caress of his now-bare legs to push them down the rest of the way over his heels and then toss them off to the side. Any other time, Dick would take the opportunity to tease me about forgetting my obsession with neatness, but now he sits silently and watches me intently, seemingly not even breaking eye contact when he pulls his t-shirt over his head and tosses it in the same general direction as the rest of his clothes.

There is something commanding in his anticipation, something not quite regal but absolutely in control. There is no vulnerability to his nakedness; Dick is a beautiful man and knows it. He is unashamed of his body and its desires and reactions and there is an extraordinarily powerful attractiveness in that. So he waits, more predator than prey, for me to make my move.

I settle back between his knees, letting my hands roam without purpose over his legs. I am still fully dressed and while my clothes are not encumbrances, they are unwanted, so I shake my hands at my sides to encourage my cuffs farther away from my wrists. I don't have to look to know Dick is watching my hands; he is marvelously predictable and I try to encourage his fascination, bringing my hands to his knees with the mildest of wrist flourishes and sliding them in to the edge of his thighs, pushing his legs that much farther apart as I lean in. I kiss his thigh just past my fingertips and feel him start, a quick flexing of quadriceps that is as much of a reward as I'm going to get from him right now. I smile against his skin, the tip of my tongue tracing where my lips had been a moment before.

Dick has exceptionally soft skin, an unintentional benefit of so much time spent in a Kevlar bodysuit. It smells faintly of the lotion he uses to get in and out of his costume, some concoction of Alfred's that prevents chafing and rashes, and more faintly of the soap he washes it away with. Once upon a time, Dick joked about him being my sodium--free diet and it is true, to an extent. His skin, his kisses, his semen taste different because he is not Atlantean, but his flavor is not at all unpleasant even though it is still foreign to my senses after all this time.

I sense his arousal with every breath and nuzzle his thigh with my nose as I lick my dry lips. I turn toward his groin, close enough that he can feel my exhalations against his erection, but do not touch despite my wish to and his need for me to. I pass it by and repeat my actions against the other thigh, finally bringing my hands to the top of his legs, rubbing them toward me in a silent exhortation for Dick to shift forward in the chair.

He does, sliding far enough into a slouch to allow me access without compromising his balance. I drag my lips against his thigh, not pulling away as I had before, until I reach the point where leg meets torso. It is hot and damp and I nibble lightly there, tongue soothing where my teeth had been. Dick's thighs first come together and then move apart in a spasm and I hold my hands against the insides of his thighs with gentle pressure until I feel the tension in his legs relax. I slide my hands inward, cupping and rubbing where I am not kissing and tonguing. I can hear and feel Dick's breathing change, shorter and harsher and still he makes no other sound. A hand on the back of my head, stroking gently, is the only indication that I am not yet where Dick would have me be, but he does not direct me, not yet.

The line between anticipation and teasing is not that fine and I finally take him in hand, tracing my thumb over the slick tip by my ear and sliding the palm of my hand along the length. I continue my attentions to his testicles until the fingers in my hair start to flex and then curl and finally pull gently. I shake my head once and the pressure ceases, but he still maintains a firm grip even as his fingers relax.

We know each other's bodies intimately and thoroughly, did so even before we became lovers. Since that point, I have become versed in when enough becomes too much and before it does, I still my hand and pull my head back slightly, just enough to let his erection slide slowly between my cheek and hand. I exult in the hiss I hear from above me even I pause, the tip at my lips, my tongue flicking out to taste and maybe even to tease. No matter how many times I've performed this act for Dick, there is a murmur of nervousness and novelty in the pit of my stomach that never quite goes away. It is different on land, governed by gravity, than in the ocean's deep and despite my awareness of the irrationality of my fear, I worry that I will somehow forget to compensate for that.

Perhaps sensing my hesitation, Dick's hand behind my head gently forces me to look up. I am met by a gaze that would be almost frightening in its intensity if there were even the merest hint of coldness in it. Instead, Dick's eyes smolder and I feel warmed by the love and lust I see in them. Buoyed, I breathe out and feel something like triumph at the almost-but-not-quite tightening of fingers in my hair.

I can lose myself in the pure mechanics of the act, surrendering as completely as he does to the rhythm I set. Our tastes are not identical and I acquiesce to his desires rather than projecting my own upon him. I know what Dick wants me to do and I can comply or not as whim suits; I know what he needs and I will provide it without hesitation. Dick has a history of choosing lovers stronger than him and I am no exception. While we are equals in our hearts and in our minds, my physical strength being... tamed... has an especial effect on him. It is not about submission or any misplaced sense of inadequacy. Instead, it is something closer to Dick's own fearlessness. He loves me neither in spite of nor because of the danger I could present. And yet if the courage is in transcending that fear of my strength, then the arousal comes from the reminder that the danger has not been eliminated.

He takes his hand away from my head as he approaches climax; I hear it clap forcefully onto the armrest. I am holding his hips, partly to make sure he doesn't buck and partly to make sure he doesn't fall off the chair if he does. My thumbs are rubbing against his hip bone and I know the sensation is one he's trying to intensify; he growls just a little when I stop, but it quickly doesn't matter and he comes with a shout that echoes loudly in the silence we have created. He sags back in the chair as he gasps for breath and I feel as much as see his heels touch down from where his feet had arched. I don't look up until I've let him go, but I catch a glimpse of him in his recumbent glory -- head thrown back, eyes closed, arms splayed -- before he pulls himself together and looks down at me, sated and yet almost predatory at the same time.

I lick my lips and breathe deeply from my mouth as he leans forward to cup my chin. I am flushed and sweat--soaked; I imagine my shirt is sticking to me as my costume might and I feel overheated and more than a little aroused. Dick runs a hand along my sweat--slippery face and kisses first my forehead, then the tip of my nose, and then finally my lips. If he tastes himself, I don't know and I don't think he cares. Beautiful blue eyes so close to mine and they sparkle with something between mischief and desire.

"I want to watch you," he says, that low, smoky voice making it sound almost like a growl.

I shudder and nod and take his proffered hands to help me stand. It's all the help he's going to give me; as soon as I'm steady he drops my hands and leans back, arms draped over the armrests and legs parted just enough. He looks thoroughly debauched and yet totally in control and I know it's not going to take much effort on my part.

I ignore the tickling edges of vest and tie as I undo first belt buckle and then slacks, leaving them splayed against my hips. My eyes are on Dick's face, watching him watch me. I free myself from boxers and shirttails and he looks almost majestic in his expectance. I could end this quickly and efficiently, but I don't, my natural reluctance to show off overwhelmed by the force of Dick's aura of anticipation and want. I let my eyes travel up and down his body, always returning to his face. He is watching me intently, not like a judge or a student, but with something that I finally recognize as being close to awe and that's when I topple over the edge and come. I close my eyes and open them a moment later to see Dick standing before me, his own eyes bright.

He kisses me again, holding my face in his hands and whispering "thank you" against my lips. I smile weakly and lean my head forward, my forehead to his. He slips his arms around me and holds me for I don't know how long, until my skin starts to feel the prickle of being trapped in sweaty clothing and I twitch involuntarily.

Without a word, Dick pulls away, just enough to start undressing me. Tie, vest, shirt, and undershirt are tossed over my shoulder and I have enough strength to whimper in mild protest; we both know I'm the one who is going to be picking them up later. With great gentleness -- and complete disregard for the strewn clothes -- he continues his task until I am as naked as he is, at which point he takes my hand and leads me off to the bathroom and the shower.

Later on, we lie in bed together, entwined in a way that has everything to do with intimacy and nothing to do with sex. Here, in this little world of our own making, there are no international incidents threatening to boil over, no injured friends and teammates, no oppressing sense of failure that we cannot save the world through sheer force of will. There is as much power in obeying a command as giving one and Dick and I trust each other enough to do both. In this small space we cannot dwell on our own powerlessness because here, now, we are not powerless.


End file.
